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shirtlesssammy · 3 years ago

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9x14: Captives

Then:

Kevin Tran was once in Advanced Placement, and now he’s dead

Now:

The bunker is haunted.

(But first let’s pause to remember that one time Dean had two end tables by his bed and he was hanging out on just one side and he was missing Cas something crazy at the time. Pure accident on the production design, I’m sure.)

Sam hears Dean’s call and runs through the bunker. He knows a haunting when he sees one.

For Sam in a v-neck holding a sword science:

Dean blasts the ghost before Sam can slice it away.

Later, Sam thinks that the ghost is Kevin, but Dean tells him he cremated him. It can’t be him. The ghost ringing the coffee maker bell seems to think it’s Kevin.

For The Plaid under Cas’s Coat Collar Science:

Cas accosts another angel in a cemetery. He wants to know why he’s paying respect to an angel, Rebecca, who worked with Metatron. It turns out she had joined another, peaceful, faction of angels. Bartholomew killed the entire group though.

Dean sits by the coffee pot waiting for Kevin to make contact again. He gives up pretty quickly though and starts in on his apology monologue longform essay. Dean blames himself and apologizes. Sam runs in because the lights are flickering again.

Kevin makes contact! He tells the brothers that he’s stuck in the veil because it’s closed to Heaven.

He needs them to find his mother. He has sources in the veil that tell him she really is alive. Candy, a ghost in Wichita, knows more.

Cas gets captured by Bart’s minions.

Dean and Sam set up shop to contact Candy.

Cas turns out to be BFFs with Bart. WHA? (Also, HOW did Supernatural get half the shots of Cas in this scene through Standards and Practice?) Bart is a bit of a fanboy over Cas taking on Rafael back in the day.

Cas is less than impressed with the path Bart has taken since the days they fought together.

Sam and Dean make contact with Candy. She tells them that they were all in cement boxes. She doesn't know where she was, but it was cold, dark, and there was a vent so they could talk with each other. Also, the door was corrugated metal. Like a storage unit. She tried escaping, but got a knife to her chest as a reward. She has no clue if Linda Tran is still alive.

Linda Tran is alive! Sam and Dean locate nearby storage units and discuss why Crowley keeps these captives.

Cas gets a tour of Bart’s headquarters. Cas and Bart differ on the idea of killing fellow angels to get the best end result (Cas learned the hard way, after all.) Bart makes it clear that his angels will find Metatron first --but they could be so much better if they worked together.

Sam and Dean head into a self storage center and discover three units rented to the same person in an isolated corner. Dean heads off with the attendant...into a dusty room full of totally non-suspicious stuff.

Sam finds the hostage lockups, and rescues LINDA TRAN! She immediately asks about Kevin which is hella awkward. The attendant remotely closes and locks the door on them (fancy!) and then knocks out Dean.

Meanwhile, Cas looks at Bart’s wall o’ clues. He asks why Bart hasn’t tried to set a trap to lure in Metatron - like DUH - bad guy catching 101. Bart proposes that they work together - “the new boss and the ultimate rebel.” QUERY: Why isn’t Stands selling Castiel merch with “Ultimate Rebel” on it?

Bart’s lackeys interrupt his daydreaming and haul in a rebel angel to interrogate. It’s group bonding via torture time! Yay?

Sam pulls out a leatherman and pries off the electrical box panel for the unit’s door. He peers into the mess of wires with confusion. Linda gives him the disappointed look of the mom of an AP student and takes over. She starts to hotwire the door open in a flash, when Sam interrupts. He uses his sad eyes to tell her that Kevin is dead.

Dean wakes in the storage unit to find one dead attendant and one grouchy demon attendant. The demon complains about how hard it has been to provide extremely poor care for captives.

For Jensen ANKLES Science:

Demon intern is EXTREMELY SOUR about not even getting to kill one single person, and having virtually no face time with the boss. Dean endures this tirade for a little while before telling him that ACTUALLY he and Crowley are besties who recently went on a field trip together. (I laugh, thinking of next season.) The demon quits on the spot!

Back at torture central, Cas watches Bart interrogating the rebel angel before interceding. Bart tells Cas to kill the prisoner, laying out a story of Cas as a formerly softhearted - but now stonecold killer - angel. He brings up Cas’s recent rampage through Heaven, and his early-season grace-theft escapades.

Cas realizes that he was only brought to Bart’s headquarters to fall in line under his banner or die. Cas hands him his blade.

Meanwhile, Dean nearly gets himself killed by the sad demon intern, but Sam bursts in and they defeat the demon.

Bart challenges Cas to a fistfight, as one does when one possesses mighty cosmic powers and also very sharp swords. “Angels fighting angels. It has to stop somewhere,” Cas says, refusing to fight. “Might as well stop with me.” Bart moves in for the kill, but Cas swiftly gets the upper hand. He pointedly doesn’t kill Bart. “I’m nothing,” he says in response to Bart asking what he is now. CAAAAS! As Cas turns to leave, Bart tries to stab him in the back. Try to murder him once, shame on you. Try to murder Cas twice, get stabbed!! And...Cas out.

Back at the self storage lot, Sam and Dean hand over their demon killing blade to Linda. She murders herself a demon, and then demands to see Kevin.

At the bunker, the Winchesters call for Kevin. When he appears, they tell him that they found her. Linda enters and greets him tearfully. UGH I’m crying. Linda goes through Kevin’s possessions and finds an old ring of his dad’s. She takes the possessions so that she can care for Kevin’s spirit. Dean tries to warn her about what tends to happen with ghosts, but she doesn’t care. “It’s my son,” she tells him. “It’s my job to keep him safe for as long as I can.”

At Rebecca’s grave, Castiel apologizes to her for how everything just sort of...went south. One of Bart’s lackeys appears and Cas immediately warns him that if he wants to play, Cas PLAYS FOR KEEPS.

The angel tells him that Cas showed him angels can choose their path. He’ll follow Cas. Two other angels show up, ready to do the same.

At the bunker, Kevin absolves Sam for what happened. He tells the Winchesters that they really need to GET OVER THEMSELVES. Life is short - quit being foolish drama llamas. They promise to be better people BUT as soon as Kevin and Linda leave -- Sam ghosts Dean and makes a beeline for his own room. Dean, in return, retires to his bedroom to play sad music through his headphones and brood.

I’m All Out of Quotes, I’m So Lost Without You:

Bunker’s haunted

Didn't spend months struggling to break through the veil just to get stuck listening to Dean Winchester having a self-pity session

Am I not a young, vital demon with basic demon needs and rights?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #kevin tran #linda tran #spn 9x14 #captives #supernatural season 9

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route22ny · 3 years ago

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BY MICHAEL J. MOONEY | PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAVE SHAFER

Staring at the front of the Royal Theater, I feel as though I’m looking backward through time. Taking in the cerulean marquee, the painted red fringe around the box office, the vertical ROYAL sign jutting into the afternoon sky—it’s easy to imagine why the denizens of Archer County flocked here for decades. The theater was a dark, cool respite from the blazing sun, a still escape from the whipping winds of the North Central Plains, a glimpse of entertainment from the outside world.

The theater—or what’s left of it anyway—peers out from the northeast corner of the town square. Without the storied theater, this could be any small town in Texas. Weathered barns and rusted oil pumps dot the landscape. Anchoring the town is the imposing three-story Romanesque Revival county courthouse, with stone archways and provincial peaks. There’s also a small café (Murn’s), a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it police station, a few antiques stores, and a single four-way stoplight swaying in the breeze like an apparition.

The Royal Theater as it is now and as it was then.

This isn’t just any small town in Texas, though. Archer City is the Texas small town. It’s the setting of both the novel and film versions of The Last Picture Show, a coming-of-age story rendered in black and white that earned eight Academy Award nominations, including Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Best Directing, and Best Picture. In Larry McMurtry’s book, published in 1966, the town is called Thalia. In the movie, directed by Peter Bogdanovich and released in 1971, it’s called Anarene—a name taken from an abandoned town 8 miles away. But rest assured, both places are Archer City: the looming courthouse, the blinking stoplight, and the Royal Theater, where so many of the most dramatic moments of The Last Picture Show take place.

The novel, which McMurtry called a “spiteful” book intended to “lance some of the poisons of small-town life,” received critical acclaim when it was published. But it was Bogdanovich’s film that truly introduced the entire world, in utterly unromanticized fashion, to the intense, sweeping sagas of everyday life in Archer City. The Last Picture Show turned this particular and peculiar town into art.

Both the novel and movie contain language that was considered lewd at the time. McMurtry’s own mother, Hazel, once said that after reading the first 100 pages she hid the book in the closet and called her son that night. “Larry, honey,” she said to him, he revealed in his 2002 travel memoir Paradise, “is this what we’re sending you to Rice for? Those awful words!”

The film, with its nudity and frank depiction of teenage sexuality—including Cybill Shepherd’s first and only topless scene—absolutely scandalized upright, moral Americans all over the country. Nowhere more so than in Archer City, where it was regarded at the time as a “dirty” movie.

Now, 50 years after the film’s release, the town’s past dalliances with Hollywood are somehow simultaneously scuttled and omnipresent. There’s no billboard at the city limit announcing the place’s cultural significance, no notation on the water tower. But there are echoes of the art formed here, about this place, along every street, around every corner. Some might even feel the spirit of McMurtry, who passed away in Archer City earlier this year.

Over the last five decades, Peter Bogdanovich, a New Yorker who operated in Los Angeles, has told the story of the movie’s origin many times. He’d seen the novel in a store, liked the title, saw what it was about, and immediately put the book back down. Then actor Sal Mineo, who’d starred alongside James Dean and Natalie Wood in Rebel Without a Cause, gave Bogdanovich a copy of the novel, saying he thought it would make a good film. Bogdanovich still didn’t read it, but gave it to his wife, production designer Polly Platt, and asked her to read it. When she inspired him to finally read it himself, he was intrigued by the challenge of conveying small-town life in Texas and eventually co-wrote the screenplay with McMurtry. Bogdanovich, Platt, and McMurtry took a long road trip scouting locations in Texas, but ultimately the director realized he wanted to shoot the movie in McMurtry’s hometown.

Set in the early 1950s, the story follows three teenagers—the co-captains of the football team and the so-called prettiest girl in school—through their senior year of high school, as they each struggle to make sense of adult concepts like love and sex and the fragility of human life. Sonny Crawford is the sensitive, thoughtful boy from a broken home. Duane Jackson is Sonny’s lovelorn best friend who escapes first into the oil fields and then the Korean War. Jacy Farrow is the coquettish rich girl who yearns wholeheartedly for something beyond the confines of her surroundings. The Last Picture Show also famously includes an ensemble of carefully rendered adults trying to cope with their own expired dreams and broken lives.

McMurtry repeated over the years that the characters he created weren’t based on any real-life individuals, but the people of Archer City always suspected otherwise. A man named Bobby Stubbs, who was photographed with McMurtry in their high school yearbook, believed he was the inspiration for Sonny. Stubbs had a troubled home life and worked nights like Sonny, and he drove the same kind of pickup truck. He was also once hit in the eye by the boyfriend of a girl he liked. “It kinda pretty closely followed me,” Stubbs used to say.

A woman named Ceil Cleveland Footlick was often asked if she was the inspiration for Jacy. She was “very good friends” (her words) with Stubbs and had been voted “Most Beautiful Girl” in her class. For years she brushed off the question, but in 1997 she published a memoir with the title Whatever Happened to Jacy Farrow?

Because of the book’s reputation, getting actors to audition was a challenge. Randy Quaid was cast as Lester, an awkward, sleazy suitor of Jacy’s. He’d only read the parts of the script that involved his character, which mostly centered on Lester taking Jacy to a naked swimming party. ��I just thought it was going to be like this B-movie, teenage, soft-porn movie,” Quaid would later say. “Something you’d see at the drive-in.”

None of the young stars had much experience in film. Timothy Bottoms, who’d only been in one movie before, was cast to play Sonny. Jeff Bridges, cast as Duane, had been a professional actor nearly all his life, but at 21 years old, this would be his first major film role. And Bogdanovich cast Shepherd as Jacy after seeing her face on the cover of Glamour magazine.

Most of the adults in the movie were played by established Hollywood actors, including Cloris Leachman, Ellen Burstyn, and Eileen Brennan. For the role of Sam the Lion, the wisdom-dispensing owner of the town’s pool hall, Bogdanovich cast Ben Johnson, the champion-rodeo-cowboy-turned-stuntman-turned-Western-movie-icon. At first Johnson turned down the part on account of the foul language, but Bogdanovich called in a favor from his director friend John Ford, who convinced Johnson to do it.

Almost as soon as filming started, real life began imitating the art being created. While making a movie about illicit sex and barely veiled scandal, the set was awash in illicit sex and barely veiled scandal. The actors spent a lot of time drinking and smoking together in their hotel rooms 30 minutes north in Wichita Falls, and that led to drama. Bottoms fell in love with Shepherd. Bogdanovich started an affair with Shepherd, dissolving his own marriage while his wife, Platt, continued to work on the movie. (Most mornings Platt styled Shepherd’s hair.) “It was quite a soap opera,” Burstyn said in the documentary Picture This: The Times of Peter Bogdanovich in Archer City, Texas.

This was everything the locals had feared: all the immoral luridness of Hollywood, right here in a part of Texas not so comfortable with unwholesomeness that didn’t stay behind closed doors.

Outside of Archer City, it was a different story. The movie received great reviews from coast to coast. Johnson won the Oscar for Actor in a Supporting Role and Leachman won for Actress in a Supporting Role. The film is still beloved today and maintains a spot in the coveted National Film Registry.

But at the time of its release, most of the locals disapproved. Strongly. The Los Angeles Times ran a story about it with the headline “Movie Riles Town It Depicts.” McMurtry, who was involved in Bogdanovich’s vision, eventually got so annoyed by the vicious gossip in town that he sent a letter to the editor of the Archer City newspaper, challenging anyone in town to a public debate.

His offer went unrequited.

Archer City’s population is 1,848, only a couple hundred larger than it was when McMurtry grew up there in the ’30s and ’40s. The town is the seat of Archer County, created in 1858 by the Texas State Legislature and named after Branch Tanner Archer, former secretary of war of the Republic of Texas. Ranching and oil have long been the predominant industries—by late 1926, there were more than 400 oil wells within 13 miles of Archer City—but many people are increasingly attracted to the town for its proximity to prime hunting.

Many of the locations where The Last Picture Show was filmed are gone now. Where Sam’s dusty pool hall once stood, with its door flapping in the wind, there’s nothing but an empty dirt lot. The Rig-Wam Drive Inn, the burger joint where Jacy dangled french fries over Duane’s head as if he was a trained seal, is just a plot of asphalt and patchy grass. The West-Tex Theater in the neighboring town of Olney, used for the interior movie theater scenes, was torn down in the mid-’80s. Today it’s a small, quiet park with a gazebo.

Some places are still here, but different. The restaurant where Brennan’s character worked turned into Booked Up No. 4, one of four bookstores McMurtry set up around the town square before shuttering all but one in 2012. The high school has some of the same old features, though it’s been updated and decorated with a handful of granite statues marking state titles the school has won through the years.

Much of the town looks and acts remarkably like it did when The Last Picture Show was made. Boys about the age of Duane and Sonny still speed through town in pickup trucks. Men the age of Sam the Lion still stop them to talk about football. The dance hall at the American Legion, where Jacy and Duane twirled around the room and Sonny ran into his estranged father, looks like it could host the same event today. On a recent evening, four or five locals were perched on barstools, sipping cold beers, listening to songs on the jukebox. They got rid of the old Wurlitzer years ago, but the updated digital version there now still plays all the Hank Williams Sr. songs from the movie.

In time, feelings in Archer City softened a bit. Mostly, the people here don’t talk much about the movie, or about McMurtry, the town’s most famous son. You can spend all morning at Murn’s Café and all night at the American Legion, the only bar in town, and never hear The Last Picture Show mentioned once. It’s not the source of tension it once was.

The public change of heart was most apparent in 1989, nearly 20 years after The Last Picture Show was filmed, when Bogdanovich returned to Archer City to shoot the sequel, Texasville, based on a book of the same name by McMurtry. This time the townspeople lined up to participate as extras. People came from miles away to sell concessions or to take photos or just get a glimpse of the nearly $20 million production.

“The bad taste that the movie left for some folks, that’s gone now,” then-high school principal Nat Lunn told the Austin American-Statesman at the time. “Especially with money being short in town, they’re ready for another dose of Hollywood.”

By the late 1980s, the three leads in the first film—Bottoms, Bridges, and Shepherd—had all become stars. While the entire budget for the first movie was around $1.3 million, Shepherd alone was paid $1.5 million to reprise her role. Bridges was reportedly paid $1.75 million. Bottoms, who’d complained publicly about Bogdanovich and said he didn’t like any of his co-stars, would only agree to return if he was given an additional $100,000 to fund the Picture This documentary.

In the two decades since the first movie, Bogdanovich’s career had soared and crashed. He and Shepherd had broken up; he went on to have multiple relationships, and she had two divorces. Bottoms was also divorced and remarried, but on the set he confessed the crush he’d had on Shepherd. Platt returned, too, and brought the 21-year-old daughter she and Bogdanovich shared. It became a grand, twisted Hollywood reunion, right there on the streets of Archer City.

Drawn by the potential spectacle of what was by then some sort of love-octagon, media outlets from across the country sent reporters to town. There were long feature stories in both Entertainment Weekly and the Los Angeles Times. By all accounts, though, the entire production served as a therapeutic experience, healing the wounds of the past. At one press conference, the often-sullen Bottoms hugged Bogdanovich. Behind-the-scenes footage caught Shepherd hugging Bottoms. Residents of Archer County took photos of themselves on the set.

But when the movie was released, it tanked. It received middling reviews, earned back only a fraction of its budget, and even today it’s not easy to find on any of the major streaming services.

A lot of people associated with The Last Picture Show are dead now. Stubbs, who claimed to be the basis for Sonny, died in 1992. Johnson in 1996. Sam Bottoms, the real-life younger brother of Timothy Bottoms who played the mute boy Billy, died in 2008. Platt, the producer and production designer who somehow never pulled Shepherd’s hair, died in 2011. Then Brennan in 2013.

In January of this year, Footlick, the woman who wrote about being the real Jacy Farrow, died in North Carolina. Leachman died almost two weeks later. And on March 25, McMurtry, the writer who created all this beautiful trouble, died at the age of 84.

A few days after his death, nobody answered the doorbell at his house in Archer City, a majestic, three-story mansion just down the road from the high school. Looking through the front window, everything seemed to me to be just the way he left it, from the table made from a giant dinosaur fossil to the towering shelves of books in every room. McMurtry bought this place, the biggest home in town, after he won the Pulitzer Prize for Lonesome Dove. He’d wake up early in the morning, type for an hour and a half or so at his long oak table, then go to the bookstore to price antiquarian volumes. Most of the locals would leave him alone.

On the house’s front porch, a single rocking chair was situated to look out over the front yard into the surrounding neighborhood. Someone sitting there could see the comings and goings of a lot of people. As the early-evening wind moved through, the chair began to rock ever so gently.

These days, I sense the people of Archer City think differently of The Last Picture Show. It’s a part of the town’s story, just like the cattle industry and state titles. The movie is even mentioned on the town’s website, though it’s certainly not prominent.

There’s also a tiny park just off the square with a fiberglass horse covered in brands from local ranches and a display that chronicles a bit of the town’s history. The welded metal wall has separate panels for the town’s founding, the first successful oil well drilled here, and the giant fire that swept through in 1925. There’s also a panel explaining how the town was the filming location for The Last Picture Show and Texasville. Bogdanovich’s last name is misspelled.

A couple hundred feet away is the Royal Theater. Most of the building is a burned-out hull, popular for weddings, photo shoots, and occasional performances. The front of the building has been restored, though. It looks just like it did in the movie, the image that begins and ends the film. It’s haunting and beautiful, weathered and damaged—but still here, still standing, still looking at that single blinking light swaying in the wind.

***

The Last Picture Show wasn’t the first movie based on a novel by Larry McMurtry, and it certainly wasn’t the last. You might besurprised by just how many films and TV shows have been made from his novels. Here are a few:

Hud, 1963 (based on Horseman, Pass By) The Last Picture Show, 1971 Lovin’ Molly, 1974 (based on Leaving Cheyenne) Terms of Endearment, 1983 Lonesome Dove, 1989 Texasville, 1990 The Evening Star, 1996

https://texashighways.com/culture/how-the-last-picture-show-changed-the-worlds-view-of-small-town-texas/

#archer city texas #larry mcmurtry #peter bogdanovich #the last picture show

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chiseler · 3 years ago

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Gnostic Boardwalk

Canonical stature is a fragile and contingent thing, which is why powerful institutions seek to shore up the various canons of art with rankings and plaudits. We’ll play along by asserting that one of our favorite “B” movies was originally screened by Henri Langlois at the Cinematheque française with Georges Franju in attendance. Night Tide (1961) was an unlikely contender for this particular honor—shot guerrilla style on an estimated $35,000 budget, and intended, by its distributors at least, for a wider, less demanding audience seeking mostly air-conditioned escapism.

With its hinky cast—nonfictional witch, Marjorie Cameron; erstwhile muse to surrealist filmmaker Jean Cocteau, the undersung Babette who usually appears en travesti; and lecherous, booze-addled, fresh-faced Hollywood castoff Dennis Hopper—Night Tide invades the drive-in. A tarot reading at the film’s heart gives Marjorie Eaton her time to shine, traipsing into nickel-and-dime divination from her former life as a painter of Navajo religious ceremonies. Linda Lawson might have issued from an etching by Odilon Redon, with her raven locks and spiritual eyes, our resident sideshow mermaid. Not surprisingly and despite such gentle segues, the film itself traveled a rocky road from festivals to paying venues.

Night Tide had spent three years languishing in the can when distributor Roger Corman smuggled the unlikely masterwork into public consciousness, another of his now legendary mitzvahs to art. And the sleazy-sounding double bills that resulted also unleashed an aberrant wonder: the movie’s compact leading man, a force previously held captive by the studio system—looking, here, like some homunculus refugee from the Fifties USA. Dennis Hopper, in his first starring role, would later recall that it represented his first “aesthetic impact” on film since his earlier appearances in more mainstream productions such as Rebel Without a Cause and Giant had denied him meaningful outlets for collaboration.

It’s the presence of its featured players—certainly not their star power—that lends the film its haunting and enduring legacy, and elevates the term “cult classic” to its rightful place in the pantheon of cinema. But we argue that Night Tide remains outside these exclusive parameters—upholding an elsewhere-ness that defies commercial, if not strictly canonical, logic. Curtis Harrington’s first feature film escapes taxonomy, typology or genre—gets away—fueling itself on acts of solidarity instead. If Hopper contributes his dreamy aura, then Corman rescues the seemingly doomed project by re-negotiating the terms of a defaulted loan to the film lab company that was preventing the film’s initial release. His generous risk birthed a movie monument that would add Harrington’s name to a growing collection of talent midwifed by the visionary schlockmeister responsible for nursing the auteurs of post-war American cinema. And here we enter a production history as gossamery as Night Tide itself.

Unlike his counterparts entrenched within the studio system, Harrington was an artist – i.e. a Hollywood anachronism, with aristocratic graces and a viewfinder trained on the unseen. We see Harrington as Georges Méliès reborn with a queer eye, casting precisely the same showman’s metaphysics that spawned cinema onto nature. By the time moving pictures were invented, artists were moving away from a bloodless representational ethos and excavating more primordial sources for inspiration. The early stirrings of what surrealist impresario André Breton would later proclaim: “Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or it will not be at all.”

Harrington owned a pair of Judy Garland’s emerald slippers, and according to horror queen/cult icon Barbara Steele, also amassed an eclectic array of human specimens: “Marlene Dietrich, Gore Vidal, Russian alchemists, holistic healers from Normandy, witches from Wales, mimes from Paris, directors from everywhere, writers from everywhere and beautiful men from everywhere.” On a hastily constructed Malibu boardwalk, Hopper would be in his milieu among the eccentric denizens of California’s artistic underground—most notably, Harrington himself, a feral Victorian mountebank of a director who slept among mummified bats, practiced Satanic rites, and hosted elaborate and squalid dinner parties. One could almost picture the mostly television director in his twilight years as Roman Castavet of Rosemary’s Baby; a spellbinding raconteur with a carny’s flair for embellishment and enticement. Enthralled by the dark gnosticism of Edgar Allan Poe that had started when the aspiring 16-year-old auteur mounted a nine-minute long production of The Fall of the House of Usher (1942), Harrington would embark on a checkered film career that combined his occult passions with the quotidian demands of securing steady employment. Night Tide, a humble matinee feature whose esoteric underpinnings would spawn subsequent generations of admirers, united the competing forces of art and commerce that Harrington would struggle with throughout his career. Like Méliès, Harrington pointed his kinetic device towards the more preternatural aspects of early motion pictures to seek out the ‘divine spark’ that Gnostics attribute to transcendence, and the necessary element to achieve that immortal leap into the unknown. What hidden meanings and unspeakable acts Poe had seized upon in his writing were brought infernally to life with a mechanical sleight-of-hand. It was finally time for crepuscular light, beamed through silver salts to illuminate otherworldly and other-thinking subjects.

Curtis Harrington

By the time Harrington had embarked on his feature film debut, a more muscular celluloid mythology based on America’s proven exceptionalism was in full force, taking on a brutalist monotone cast in keeping with the steely-eyed, square-jawed men at the helm of a nascent super-power, consigning its more feminine preoccupations to the dusty vaults where celluloid is devoured by its own nitrate. Harrington would resurrect the convulsive aspects of his chosen vocation and embed them deep within the monochrome canvas he’d been allotted for his first venture into feature filmmaking, and combine them with the more rational aspects of so-called realism. In the romantic re-telling of a familiar myth, Harrington was remaining true to gnostic roots and the distinctly poetic language used to express its cosmological features.

In Night Tide, Harrington would map the metaphysical terrain that held up Usher’s cursed edifice as a blueprint for his own work that similarly explored the intertwined duality of the natural and the supernatural. The visible cracks that reveal a fatal structural weakness and a loss of sanity in both Roderick Usher and his doomed estate are evident in Night Tide’s conflicted heroine compelled to choose between her own foretold death underwater, or a worse fate for those who fall in love with her earthly human form.

A young sailor (Dennis Hopper) strolling the boardwalks of Malibu while on shore leave offers the viewer an opening glimpse into the film’s metaphysical wormhole, and a not so subtle hint of the director’s queer eye, stalking his virginal prey in the viewfinder. A beachfront entertainment venue is, after all, where one would casually encounter soothsayers and murderers, sea witches and perverts, as the guileless Johnny does, seemingly oblivious to the surrealist elements of his surroundings as he makes his way on land.

Harrington’s carnival-themed underworld is both imaginatively and convincingly presented as a quaint slice of post-war America, effortlessly dovetailing with his intended drive-in audience’s expectations of grind house with a dash of glamor—not to mention his own avant-garde leanings, which remain firmly intact despite Night Tide’s outwardly conventional construction and narrative.

Harrington is able to present this juxtaposition of kitsch Americana and the queer arcana of his occult fascinations. Indeed, Night Tide’s lamb-to-the-slaughter protagonist could have wandered off the set of Fireworks, Kenneth Anger’s 1947 homoerotic short film about a 17-year-old’s sadomasochistic fantasies involving gang rape by leathernecks.

Anger would later sum up his earliest existing film as “A dissatisfied dreamer awakes, goes out in the night seeking a ‘light’ and is drawn through the needle’s eye. A dream of a dream, he returns to bed less empty than before.” Harrington (a frequent collaborator of Anger in his youth) seems to have re-worked Fireworks, or at least its underlying queer aesthetic into a commercially viable feature film that explores his own life long occult fascinations.

Both Anger and his former protégé would view the invocation of evil as a necessary step towards the attainment of a higher level of consciousness. Harrington coaxed a more familiar story from the myths and archetypes that informed his unworldly views for a wider audience; a move that would be later interpreted by sundry cohorts as selling out. Still, Night Tide shares a thematic kinship with Anger’s more obtusely artistic output as acknowledged by the surviving occultist, who confirmed this unholy covenant at Harrington’s funeral by kissing his dead friend on the lips as he laid in his open coffin.

The hokey innocence of Dennis Hopper as Johnny Drake in his tight, white sailor suit casts a homoerotic hue on the impulses that compel him to navigate a treacherous dreamscape to satisfy a carnal longing, just as Anger’s dissatisfied dreamer obeys the implicit commands of an unspeakable other to seek out forbidden pleasures.

As he makes his way on land, the solitary, adventure-seeking Johnny will be lured into a waiting photo booth, his features slightly menacing behind its flimsy curtain, and brightly smiling a second later as the flash illuminates them. Johnny has entered a realm where intersecting worlds collide, delineating light from shadow, consciousness from unconsciousness. The young sailor’s maiden voyage into the uncharted waters of his subconscious is made evident in the contrasting interplay captured by the camera, where predator and prey overlap in darkness. Here, too, we get a prescient preview of the deranged psychopath Hopper would subsequently personify in later roles, most significantly as the oxygen deprived Frank of Blue Velvet—a man who seems to be drowning out of water. But here, Hopper convincingly (and touchingly) portrays a wide-eyed naïf, still unsteady on his sea legs as he negotiates dry land.

As a variation of Anger’s lucid dreamer in Fireworks (and later Jeffrey of Blue Velvet) Johnny will have abandoned himself quite literally (as his departing shadow on a carnival pavilion suggests, before its host blithely follows) to his own suppressed sexual urges; a force that eventually compels him towards denouement.

Moments later, inside the Blue Grotto where a flute-led jazz combo is in progress, Johnny spots a beautiful young woman (Linda Lawson) seated directly across from him. Her restrained and almost involuntary physical response to the music mimic his own, offering the first indication of a gender ‘other’ residing in Johnny; an entombed apparition cleaved from the sub-conscious and projected into his line of vision. Roderick and Madeline Usher loom large in Harrington’s screenplay and Usher’s trans themes lurk invisibly in the subtext. Harrington is arguably heir apparent to Poe’s vacated throne, pursuing similar clue-laden paths and exploring the dual nature of human and the primordial creature just beneath the surface poised to devour its host.

The near literal strains of seductive Pan pipes buoyed by the ‘voodoo’ percussion sets the stage for Harrington’s reworking of the ancient legend of sea-based seductresses and the sailors they lure to their graves.

Marjorie Cameron (or ‘Cameron’ as she is referred to in the opening credits) makes a startling entrance into The Blue Grotto as an elder of a lost tribe of mermaids seeking the return of an errant ‘mermaid’ to her rightful place in the sea. Cameron, a controversial fixture in L.A.’s bohemian circles and one-time Scarlet Women in the mold of Aleister Crowley’s profane muses, would later appear in Anger’s The Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome, and as the subject of Harrington’s short documentary The Wormwood Star (1956).

The inclusion of a bonafide witch, along with a host of less apparent occult/avant-garde figures, is further evidence of Night Tide’s true aspirations and its filmmaker’s subversive intent to sneak an art-house film into the drive-in, and introduce its audiences to the heretical doctrine that had spawned a new generation of occult visionaries influenced by Edgar Allan Poe. Decades later, David Lynch would carry that proverbial torch, further illuminating the writhing, creature-infested realm underlying innocence.

Johnny approaches the young woman who rebuffs his attempts at conversation, seemingly entranced by the music, but allows him to sit, anyway. Soon they are startled by the presence of a striking middle-aged woman (‘Cameron’) who speaks to Johnny’s companion Mora in a strange tongue. Mora insists that she has never met the woman before, nor understands her, but makes a fearful dash from the club as Johnny follows her, eventually gaining her trust and an invitation the following day for breakfast.

Mora lives in a garret atop the carousal pavilion at the boardwalk carnival where she works in one of the side show attractions as a “mermaid.” Arriving early for their arranged breakfast, her eager suitor strikes up a conversation with the man who runs the Merry-Go-Round with his granddaughter, Ellen (Luanna Anders). Their trepidation at the prospecting Johnny becoming intimately acquainted with their beautiful tenant is apparent to all except Johnny himself, who is even more oblivious to Ellen’s wholesome and less striking charms. Even her name evokes the flat earth, soul-crushing sensibilities of home and hearth. Ellen Sands is earthbound Virgo eclipsed by an ascendent Pisces. (Anders would have to subordinate her own sex appeal to play this mostly thankless “good girl” role. She would be unrecognizable a few years later as a more brazenly erotic presence in Easy Rider, helping to define the Vietnam war counterculture era.)

As Johnny ascends the narrow staircase leading to Mora’s sunlit, nautical-themed apartment, he almost collides with a punter making a visibly embarrassed retreat from the upper floor of the carousel pavilion. Is Johnny unknowingly entering into a realm of vice and could Mora herself be a source of corruption? Her virtue is further called into question when she not so subtly asks Johnny if he has ever eaten sea urchin, comparing it to “pomegranate” lest her guest fails to register the innuendo that is as glaring as the raw kipper on his breakfast plate. Johnny admits that he has never eaten the slippery delicacy but “would like to try.” Moments later, Mora’s hand in close-up is stroking the quivering neck of a seagull she has lured over with a freshly caught fish, sealing their carnal bond.

Their subsequent courtship will be marred by an ongoing police investigation into the mysterious deaths of Mora’s former boyfriends, and her insistence that she is being pursued by a sea witch, seeking the errant mermaid’s return to her own dying tribe. Her mysterious stalker will make another unwelcome entrance after her first appearance in the Blue Grotto—this time at an outdoor shindig where the free-spirited young woman reluctantly obliges the gathered locals who urge her to dance. The sight of ‘Cameron’ observing her in the distance causes the frenzied, seemingly spellbound dancer to collapse, setting off a chain of events that will force Johnny to further question her motives and his own sanity.

Mora’s near death encounter through dance is an homage of sorts to another early Harrington collaborator and occult practitioner. Experimental filmmaker Maya Deren had authored several essays on the ecstatic religious elements of dance and possession, and later went on to document her experiences in Haiti taking part in ‘Voudon’ rituals that would be the basis of a book and a posthumously released documentary both titled Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti. Note the Caribbean drummers whose ‘unnatural’ presence, in stark contrast to the more typical Malibu beach party celebrants, hint at the influence of black magic impelling the convulsive, near heart-stopping movements that eventually overtake her ‘exotic’ interpretive dance.

The opening sequence of Divine Horsemen includes a woodblock mermaid figure superimposed over a ‘Voudon’ dancer. The significance of this particular motif was likely known to Harrington, a devotee of this early pioneer of experimental American cinema. Deren herself appeared as a mermaid-like figure washed ashore in At Land (1947) who pursues a series of fragmented ‘selves’ across a wild, desolate coastline. Lawson with her untamed black hair and bare feet could be a body double of Deren’s elemental entity traversing unfamiliar physical terrain to find a way back to herself.

Mora’s insistence that she is being shadowed by a malevolent force directly connected to her mysterious birth on a Greek Island and curious upbringing as a sideshow attraction compel Johnny to investigate her paranoid claims, hoping to allay her fears with a logical explanation for them. The sea witch (or now figment of his imagination) will guide the sleuthing sailor into a desolate, mostly Mexican neighborhood where her departing figure will strand him—right at the doorstep of the jovial former sea captain who employs Mora in his tent show as a captive, “living, breathing mermaid.”

The British officer turned carnie barker is in a snoring stupor when Johnny first encounters him, snapping unconsciously into action to give a rote spiel on the wonders that await inside his tent. Muir balances Mudock’s feigned buffoonery with a slightly sinister edge. When Johnny arrives at his doorstep to find out more about the ongoing police investigation into her previous boyfriend’s deaths, the captain’s effusive hospitality takes on a decidedly darker tone when he guides his visitor to his liquor/curio cabinet where a severed hand in formaldehyde, “a little Arabian souvenir,” is cunningly placed where Johnny’s will see it. The spooky appendage serves as a reminder to Mora’s latest suitor of the punishments in store for a thief.

Captain Murdock’s Venice beach hacienda is yet another one of Night Tide’s deviant jolts: a fully fleshed out character in itself that speaks of its well-travelled tenant’s exotic and forbidden appetites. The dark, symbol-inscribed temple Johnny has entered at 777 Baabek Lane could be a brick-and-mortar portal into this mythic, mermaid-populated dimension that Johnny’s booze-soaked host thunderously defends as real.

Before falling into another involuntary slumber, Murdock will try to convince Johnny that while he and Mora merely stage a sideshow illusion, “Things happen in this world”—or, more to the point, Mora’s belief that she is a sea creature is grounded in fact.

Murdock’s business card that Johnny handily has in his pocket while tailing his dramatically kohl-eyed mark is oddly inscribed with an address more likely to be an ancient Phoenician temple of human sacrifice (Baalbek) than a Venice Beach bungalow. A lingering camera close-up offers another tantalizing, occult-themed puzzle piece—or perhaps a deliberate Kabbalah inspired MacGuffin. The significance of numbers as the underlying components for uniting the nebulous and intangible contents of the mind with the more inert, gravity bound matter, existing outside it, as the ancient Hebrews believed, wouldn’t have been lost on Night Tide’s mystically-minded helmer. Mora’s explicitly expressed disdain for Johnny’s view of the world as a rationally ordered, measurable entity that could be mathematically explained, reinforces Harrington’s world view, his love of Poe, and those French Symbolist artists who interpreted him.

In Odilon Redon’s Germination (1879), a wan, baleful, free-floating arabesque of heads of indeterminate gender suggests either a linear, ascending involution, or a terrifying descent from an unlit celestial void into a bottomless pit of an all-too-human, devolving identity. Redon’s disembodied heads gradually take on more human characteristics, culminating into a black-haloed portrait in profile. The cosmos of Redon’s etching is governed by an unexplained, inexplicable moral sentience, which absorbs the power of conventional light. Thus black is responsible for building its essential form, while glimmers of white, hovering above and below, prove ever elusive; registering as somehow elsewhere, beyond the otherwise tenebrous unity of the picture plane.

Night Tide has its own unsettling dimensions, of course, this black-and-white boardwalk where astral, egalitarian bums want to tip-toe; and, somehow, practically all of them do. Not a movie but an ever-becoming place, crammed into low-budget cosmogenesis unto eternity. We won’t discuss the ending here, since it hasn’t happened yet.

by The Lumière Sisters

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land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 4 years ago

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The Maid Class Analysis

Maids are those who are often thought to only be a servant to those around them, answering to every beck and call that someone higher in authority than them gives. Rarely ever catching a break or being shown much respect, instead tending to play the role of a silent caretaker - a person meant to be seen rather than heard. When whatever job they have been assigned for the time being has been completed, they are often shunted aside, locked away in waiting until the next chore must be done by someone with such a delicate, skittish touch. Oftentimes Maids are those looked down upon - they are the underdogs who no one ever sings about, no one ever makes murals in their memory, rarely given the kindness and respect they so deeply deserve.

Yet, it is also the Maid who is meant to be the one to keep order in one fashion or another. They are the ones who clean, after all - whether that cleaning is merely tidying up any dust or grime collected over the years, or the mess leftover by those surrounding the Maid. To be rather blunt, the Maid is one who is underappreciated, as well as underestimated in how large of a part they play in the groups they are a part of. Chances are that a Maid is the reason for countless important, largely defining moments for one or even several people they have come across. Maids leave impacts wherever they go, whether they realize this or not. Much like the scrubbing of a cloth against a wall, the bristles of a broom on a dirty floor, or the gentle feathers on a dusty desk - a Maid will always leave a mark wherever they depart from; good and bad alike.

Although some of what has been described may describe that of a typical, non-Classpect related Maid, those who are bound to this creation Class are ones who go through these similar struggles. The life of a Maid is rarely ever an easy one, as they often will face countless challenges along the way of - to be quite honest - their entire existence. One of the biggest defining struggles of a Maid is their Aspect itself. More specifically, the fact that their Aspect is something that has nearly consumed every last piece of the Maid’s world - themself included. While at first it may seem like a play-on-words for a Maid’s Classpect title to be “Maid of Aspect”, there is an unfortunate truth to such a label; one in which the Maid never truly agreed to in the first place.

The Maid is one who has a seemingly endless supply of their Aspect to the point where it feels almost inescapable to the Maid themself if they ever wished to get away from it. Down to the Maid’s very own decision making - their Aspect is a weight placed on their back and shoulders from the exact moment they were born, and it is one that has rarely ever seemed to become lighter, no matter what they do. As much of their Aspect they have, it is rarely ever something that truly benefits the Maid. In fact, for some Maids, their Aspect is something that is extremely debilitating - an oppressive force that has its claws dug in deeply into the Maid’s heart and soul. Even an Aspect as seemingly beneficial as Space, Life, Breath, Blood, Light, etc. would have their own downsides to someone as unfortunate as the Maid.

They are someone who could be argued to be at constant war with their Aspect, one side always trying to dominate over the other since, if the Maid is not entirely careful, their Aspect could eventually overthrow them entirely - leaving only a lifeless husk of the Aspect to wander around and serve whoever calls their name. However, that is only one of the struggles that the Maid faces, yet there is no doubt that it is still one of the biggest and most difficult obstacles in their way. Unlike the Prince or Bard who seek to destroy their Aspect yet must instead learn how to destroy through it, or the Knight who must learn how to wield their Aspect like a shield or blade, the Maid is one must learn how to put the excessive amount of their Aspect to good use. Although it appears to be a force that only wishes to oppress and perhaps even damage the Maid, it is still up to them to figure out what exactly they wish to do with it. Unfortunately, they won’t ever be able to truly rid themselves of their Aspect, there is no doubting that. That doesn’t entirely mean they have to simply learn to live alongside such a lingering, almost oppressive force, though. There may be some Maids who do find a purpose for their Aspect, one way or another.

Of course, there are the variety who don’t wish to even associate with it and may even be afraid to become accidentally, completely submissive to it. In these cases, they will most likely go with the option of ignoring or even running away from any and everything that has to do with their Aspect. Whether it is avoiding discussing it, places or locations that are filled with it, people who are linked to it, etc, there will always be the Maids who will merely try to rebel against it as much as they can. In a way, it could be seen as them running away from the duties and responsibilities tied into their Class. Maids are often a crucial part for any group that has been given the privilege of having one amongst them, after all.

Before heading into the powers of a Maid, and just how they can put the excessive amounts of their Aspect to good use, let’s take a moment to reflect on the social life of a Maid, as well as the overall personality this busy and bustling Class are known to have. Starting off, Maids are those who are quite dedicated to doing what is best - at least in when it falls under the light of what they deem to be the most important. If there is one thing Maids dislike, it is having their time and energy wasted on a job, person, or thing, especially if it all turns out to be pointless in the end. This is often because Maids can become extremely dedicated to anything, as well as anyone, that they put their mind to. Maids tend to enjoy working towards some type of goal, fulfilling a promise, making a dream into reality - these are often the things they will deem as far more important than anything else in their life. However, these things that a Maid views as being the most important and deserving of their care and attention will always take the top of their to-do list, pushing aside anything and anyone else closer towards the bottom.

When a Maid has chosen to commit themself to a belief, individual, cause, group, task, or what have you, then they will do whatever they can to make sure the end product will always be one of perfection. Details are often a large priority for a Maid, especially when it comes to their own private or personal plans, projects, or otherwise creative endeavors. If there is one thing out of place or not exactly perfect, chances are it will be something that will fester and gnaw away at the Maid’s mind and emotional state until one of two things happen. They will either get to fully delve into their project, perfecting every last nook and cranny of it, or they will become fully enraged that their plan or project has not become the best it could be, and may even go as far as to tear apart or throw out whatever it was that they spent so long working on. Oftentimes, when a Maid puts in so much effort, energy, and time into a project, they inevitably begin to associate their very own worth with that project, seeing it as their sole purpose in life. As such, when their project is incapable of reaching such a state of perfection, what does that say about them? That they are not perfect, but rather flawed, and will never, ever be able nor allowed to reach such a state of perfection?

As eager as Maids can be in regards to dedicating themselves to something, they are often just as quick to begin neglecting themselves if they deem their own health to be not as important as other chores, tasks, or even people. On the other hand, a Maid may be one to seek out ways to live their personal best life; one of luxury, peace, success, and so much more. In order to do so, however, they will often begin neglecting everything and everyone else around them - including their own Aspect. If they believe that their Aspect is truly holding them back, then they will often invite others to come and take their own bits and pieces of it, if only so that it will allow some temporary peace for the Maid. Little does the Maid know that this is one of the biggest, most self-destructive mistakes to make. That is something to be discussed later. As the Maid builds themself up to be a person of grand appearances, wealth, health, and more, they will only truly be able to achieve this by stepping on the toes, backs, and shoulders of other people and places around them. To simply put it, the Maid is one who could either become the most selfless person in the world, or the most selfish.

No matter how a Maid may present themself towards the world or even the people they meet, it is best to keep in mind that, in life, there is always a weak point to even the grandest, most breath-taking structures. For the Maid, it should come as no surprise that it is their willingness to help anyone they deem worthy or in need of such care. Although some could merely say it is the friendships and relationships in the Maid’s life that is their weak point, that is a point which assumes every Maid has any relationships - real or otherwise - to speak of. In reality, Maids are those who will often have large, open hearts that tend to steer towards being caring souls. Every Maid has their own soft spot for at least one individual, whether they care to admit it or not. While there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting to help those who are in need of support, mending, or even love, there is a flaw in being a person so quick and eager to be the one who helps anyone who cries loud enough. Give a wild animal some food, and chances are it will come back. Give a person an inch, and they will eventually ask for another, then another, until they have claimed an entire mile. Allow someone into a section of your heart, showing them unconditional love and support, and chances are that someone will inevitably come around and ask for more than what they are already getting. To simply put, the Maid is one who is often a victim of being used by others - their kind, trusting, loving nature being seen as just another slab of rotting meat for vultures to swoop in and peck away at.

Maids will rarely often do anything about this, as their sympathy - or perhaps even empathy - is that which runs extremely deep; coursing through every vein in their body. The longer the Maid allows for such selfish souls to strip away all that they have and all that they are, hoever, and eventually the Maid will be left with nothing to give but the biggest part of their entire person: their Aspect. Yes, even the Aspect of the Maid can fall victim to being mistreated and even abused by those in the Maid’s life. If these vultures see a chance to have it, then they will stop at nothing to sink their talons into its metaphysical flesh, during which the Maid, too, shall suffer greatly.

Even though the Maid may hold grievances towards their Aspect for all the trouble it has brought them, this force is still a fact of their personality that they simply cannot ignore forever nor allow it to be destroyed, stolen away from them, or manipulated into something it is not meant to be. Although Maids are capable of standing up for and taking care of themselves it’s their lack of confidence - or rather the fear of stepping out of line - that is often what holds them back. Rather, it is their submissive, conflict-avoidant nature that so often lands them in situations of mistreatment. When a Maid has had enough of such a thing, however, there is no doubt that the Maid will make quite the show of declaration that not only have they had enough, but that their services are now closed off to anyone; allies and enemies alike.

Within every songbird is a phoenix, waiting for the fires to come and unleash their true, untameable spirits. Within every Maid is a person waiting for the day where someone will repay their kindness and free them of their shackles. The company in which the Maid finds themself within is often wide and extremely diverse, if only because the Maid is someone who attracts people of all walks of life. Yet as many people as the Maid is happy to know, so comes the stress of having to figure out who is truly a friend and who is merely a wolf hiding amidst the shrouded masses of the Maid’s social group. After all, they are someone who is often prone to falling prey to the gnashing teeth and razor claws of monstrous people, and so it might be likely for them to develop a sense of anxiety or underlying trust issues towards the people around them. On the other hand, they may also be just as quick to dismiss all previous negative, toxic relationships as flukes, mistakes, small errors in their own judgement that will never, ever happen again. The Maid is meant to be perfect, are they not? No perfect being would ever allow such a silly thing to happen over, and over, and over, and over again. If there is anything the Maid is, it would be perfect with no flaws to speak of whatsoever.

People who are aware of the Maid often are those who are either extremely eager to try and befriend, spoil, and care for the Maid, but there may be just as many who are off-putted and unnerved by the Maid, sometimes finding them, their mannerisms, or their ideologies and philosophies on anything to be perturbing or even downright upsetting. Just as well, there are others who are looking to only use them and their trusting, kind-hearted ways for selfish, twisted reasons that rest within such tainted hearts. Despite all of this, though, the Maid will typically, and simply, sit in the center of it all; appreciating and loving every last person to ever show them kindness and care. If there is one thing for certain amongst most, if not all, Maids, it is that they are more often than not complete and utter hopeless romantics in some fashion or another. Whether this means the poetic, literary type of romance; of love for the innocent, tender, far more natural ways of life, or maybe it is the emotional sense of romance that comes with some variation of attraction. Maids wish to dedicate themselves to something, but they will almost always be wanting to dedicate themselves to someone more than anything else.

When it comes to a group setting, Maids are often those who play a far more neutral role in everything that transpires amongst everyone else. Rarely, if ever, are they the ones to ever start something of great importance. If anything, they are the ones meant to see that everything plays out as it is meant to; maintaining order, coherence and appearance in the greater narrative of it all. If life is a play, then the Maid is often the set designer - the one who pushes every set piece, plot device, etc. into place. Whether this is done by their own want to do so, or if their hand is being forced by someone or something else, this is often something that depends on the Maid and whichever predicament they find themself within. No matter what, though, even when it seems that the Maid is the root cause of one plot point, positive, negative, or otherwise, it is quite likely that they were forced into such a position of center-stage-performance. A director, unseen, pulling the curtains back far too early or turning on a stagelight at the wrong moment. Do not take this as Maids being deemed as unimportant or even disposable, however. On the contrary, Maids are one of the most crucial parts for anything, as well as anyone, to function in a world full of plot holes and loose threads. It is merely that due to their title of Maid, others tend to downplay the dire importance in someone such as them.

The biggest reason for the Maid’s importance is that of their powers - their abilities to affect and leave grand ripples in wherever they go and whoever they meet. There has often been some debate as to a Maid’s true powers for as long as they have been around. The two biggest powers that stand on the top is that of whether a Maid is one who creates their Aspect, or creates through it, or if they are those who heal their Aspect, or heal through it. Their counterpart Class, Sylph, is one that has been noted to have healing properties. As such, would it not make sense for the Maid to have such powers, as well? Well, personally speaking, the powers of the Maid are much like that of a Knight: far more completed when one tries to put them down on paper. The powers of the Maid are that of someone who creates their Aspect while also capable of healing it, or they can create through their Aspect so that they may heal through it.

Quite a mouthful, as well as seeming quite convoluted, no? If one were to wish to shorten it or make it far easier to read, then the Maid’s powers are that of merely creating their Aspect, or creating through it. Nevertheless, the reason for this extensive conclusion is merely one question that seemed to pop up when personally pondering the powers of this Class: what is, ultimately, the difference between creating and healing? Is healing not the process of creating something better than before, building up from the rubble of what has been soiled and destroyed? Is creating not healing an empty space where something once was, only to be torn out one way or another?

Let’s take a step back and revisit the fact that Maids are ones whose kind, loving natures are often taken advantage of - used and abused by those far more cruel and selfish in this world. When the Maid, or any of their true friends for that matter, is incapable of keeping their Aspect - and therefore themself - safe from the talons and jagged beaks of those who seek to consume all the Maid has to offer, what will ultimately be left of it; of them? Tatters, ragged clothes, bruises, tears - bloodied and forgotten by those who only sought to tear down the Maid and take away all that they are. A broken person in an even more broken world, with their Aspect left in shreds.

As much as the Maid may hold hesitance and perhaps even ill-feelings towards such an ingrained part of themself, it would be no different to hating one’s own hands, or their legs, or even their lungs or heart. Their Aspect is as big a part of the Maid, as well as everyone else around them. Because of this, is just as vulnerable as any other part of these mortal, organic coils. Who is to be the one, then, to come forward and mend what has broken? Who is to be the one who takes charge and heals what has been harmed; to create, heal, and restore balance not only within themself but wherever else the Maid’s Aspect may lie? After all, a Maid’s Aspect is something that completely defines them and their actions just as much as it is a fog that lingers upon everything they encounter throughout their life.

Maids are creators first and foremost, whether it is taking their Aspect - or what is left of it - and creating more of it so as to not only benefit themself but the world around them, or they create through their Aspect, honing in on all of its properties, perspectives, and forms so as to build, restore, and configure whatever they wish or need. The idea that Maids are healers is merely an offshoot of their creative powers, which can occasionally have secondary healing effects on those who are touched by the Maid. A Maid may restore the Hope within another person via creating it, but some could see this as the Maid healing that person’s Hope directly. It is an extremely thin line that the powers of the Maid walk upon, always teetering towards one definition over the other.

This balancing act is why, personally speaking, Maids will be remarked as those who create their Aspect, or create through it, as their primary power. Any possible healing that comes from these acts of creation is uncommonly an accident, though some may try to claim it more as a miracle than anything else. Let’s not forget, as well, the questions brought up before and their core themes: what is truly the difference between creating and healing? Does the difference truly even matter? For some, yes, it does, but for others, they may be just fine accepting this idea that thematically and in regards to action, there truly is very little that separates the two of them.

As for the journey in which the Maid would go about unlocking these powers, that can become quite an elaborate tale to tell. To give a brief summary here, the Maid’s journey to unlocking their powers is often one of great pain, loss, and suffering that will always force the Maid out of their comfort zone - if they even had one to begin with. To further elaborate, the Maid is one whose life is one marked with struggles, internal or otherwise. Ever since the Maid takes their very first breath of air, their Aspect will latch onto and embed itself throughout the entire Maid’s mind, body, and soul. One could argue that the Aspect is like that of a parasite to the Maid, always taking, taking, and taking, yet rarely ever giving anything back to the Maid. What can be said about this argument is how that is only a slightly accurate description of the relationship between a Maid and their Aspect. If the question being begged in one’s mind is ‘well then, what is the relationship’, one might be slightly disappointed to hear that, as is often the case, it simply depends on the Maid and their circumstances. Ultimately, the relationship between them is an extremely complicated one, but there will always be one thread that runs throughout all of these cases; the ever-looming threat of being totally and utterly consumed by one’s Aspect.

Much akin to Heirs, Maids are those whose Aspects are extremely difficult to shake off. Unlike Heirs, however, who simply drift ever closer to the blackhole that is their Aspect, the Maid is one who has already fallen into some sense of servitude to their Aspect. It is already a force that controls almost everything in their life, whether it is seen in a Maid of Void constantly being overlooked or left with countless secrets, or a Maid of Hope being shoved into a box of rules, standards, and laws for them to play by, or surrounded by countless people, places, and things related to faith and beliefs. The Aspect to a Maid is ever-present, almost to a suffocating extent, and it is one that rarely ever benefits the Maid directly. If anything, the Aspect of a Maid is a force that only seeks to bring torment, harm, and perhaps even death to such an unwilling victim of circumstances.

Yet as much as their Aspect is something that seeks to harm them, and as much as the Maid may come to despise their Aspect, neither of them could truly exist without the other. At the end of the day, though, a Maid’s Aspect is that which seemingly only wishes to envelop the Maid, making them into a vessel only meant to carry out and fulfill tasks related to their Aspect. This is something that often terrifies Maids, and, as such, they may try to seek out ways to handle such a ravenous beast.

Perhaps some Maids subconsciously seek out destructive people; those who will rip and tear and use up all the resources and energy the Maid has to offer, their Aspect included. Maybe it is simply an unfortunate side effect of their naive, far too loving and kind nature. No matter what, though, there will inevitably come a handful of times throughout the Maid’s life where their gentle, near submissive, way of socializing will be taken hold and advantage of. This will come to happen until, finally, the core of their very being has been revealed for all to see, and the Maid’s Aspect will be shown no mercy. The brightest flower, the freshest and most succulent fruit, the most healthy, bountiful soil, and the most tender of meat is that which will always be torn apart and ravaged the most when it comes to those selfish souls.

Although the Maid may have thought it good that their Aspect will finally be chopped down like an invasive plant entangling them, suffocating them, a horrific discovery would be awaiting them. As their Aspect is savagely and haphazardly used and abused, exhausted and ragged from a never-ending crescendo of everyone wanting to get their own sliver of Breath, or of Mind, or of Light, there would come a point where the Maid would realize that once all their Aspect has gone, they will have nothing left to offer to those around them. If the Maid were to truly allow for all pieces of their Aspect to be ripped away from them and consumed by these wolves and vultures, then what would be their purpose? Who would see any point in keeping the Maid as a companion if they cannot dazzle everyone with their Aspect and what it holds? Moreover, who would the Maid even be without their Aspect? Who is a Maid if not their entire Aspect, flaws and everything?

If they are to survive, then the Maid cannot allow their hatred and rivalry with their Aspect to persist. As much as it has tried to destroy them - to overtake them and make into a husk - such a similar fate is what awaits the Maid if they are to have every last part of their Aspect picked clean from their soul. The two of them are one in the same - two forces who oppose yet must continue to coexist with one another; especially if neither wishes to be left with a longing sense of emptiness. Because of this, the Maid must not only learn how they and their Aspect can coexist with another, but also how to save both forces from being destroyed for good.

Although some of the Maid’s friends played a part in this act of self defamation, it will also be the Maid’s friends who will help them and their Aspect not only become whole again, but, ultimately, become one. Indeed, the Maid must first learn how they can help to restore their Aspect - create it so as to help fill in the gaping spaces that lack its presence - before learning how to create through it. There are many Maids who see such a long-winded journey as far too daunting, and so they often abide by the ways of only ever creating and restoring their Aspect. For as powerful as it may sound, there still lies that underlying tension and fear of losing themself in their very own Aspect. After all, in order for them to create through their Aspect, they essentially have to swear themself over to its whims, ways, and wires, becoming synchronized and aligned with one another to allow peak performance of power to occur.

However, those who hide and run away from such power will never be able to truly unlock their full potential, even when it comes to their base powers of creating their Aspect. Never will they be able to fully heal, create, or restore what has been lost of their Aspect, not if they don’t fully submit to it. Even the Maids who know this and still choose not to are often content as is when it comes to their powers. Perhaps it is because they still hold a grudge to those who hurt them, and as such see no reason as to why they should make such a grand sacrifice for a few saps who most likely would never do the same in return. Who is to say other than the Maid themself? Who is to say even the Maid knows the reason for this defiance.

At the end of the day, the base power to create their Aspect is one meant to heal their Aspect. Oftentimes, though, they do end up playing the role of a healer to those around them, as well. The longer the Maid creates and heals their Aspect, the more they will come to realize how truly important they are to not only the people around them, but in the grander schemes of everything, as well.

By creating their Aspect, the Maid is one who manages to maintain the balance needed for everything, and everyone, to function and grow. They are the ones who make certain every last domino falls, exactly as it needs to be. Whenever there is a hole to be filled, chances are that the Maid will do that job well, if only in a rather arbitrary and seemingly convoluted way of doing so. Such a thing is not uncommon for Maids, though, as they do often show themselves to be either victims of outside forces - often ones far out of their own control - or they are ones who orchestrate such a thing; going against the grain as they see fit.

Their minds are ones of grand creativity, and their powers are ones most certainly meant to accentuate such a trait. Even if a Maid never ventures further on their path of creation, even the base power of creating their Aspect is one that can surely evolve into something extremely grandiose. A Maid of Doom capable of wiping out or rooting away a hundred mile radius of any life with a wave of their hand, a Maid of Breath creating a storm so disastrous it could rip away entire mountains, or even a Maid of Hope who can bring back a lawful and justified balance; soothing whatever rageful beasts may be surrounding them. The Maid and their Aspect have always meant to work side by side, beneficiaries to one another; when such synchrony has even been partially fulfilled, the Maid is one who can prove themself to be quite the daunting force to behold.

Once the Maid has proven themself well equipped in their power of creation, so will come the moment where they can decide whether they wish to further their power or not. To become one with their Aspect, to create through it, is a power not many Maids may wish to partake in as spoken of before. However, for the ones who do take up this challenge, knowing the risks that may come in their possible failure, they are the ones who will not only truly know their Aspect, but will act as a type of ambassador for it. They will represent all that their Aspect is - the good, and the bad - in order to become one of the finest creators of their time.

By creating their Aspect, there may come a time where the Maid finds themself to once again have an excessive amount of it. It is through this excess that the Maid will find their power of creating through it; honing in on what has bubbled over the brim of the pot, the Maid will be able to create whatever they wish from such concentrated amounts of their Aspect. Through stardust itself, a Maid of Space could create what they wish - or what they need, a Maid of Mind could use their ability to foresee consequences of actions to create the ultimate battle strategy, or a Maid of Time could create a perfectly synced series of events across countless timelines; dominoes falling until they make the final push that allows for the Alpha Timeline to continue pushing forward.

To create through one’s Aspect is to use all that is, was, and ever will be to one’s advantage. However, much like their base power of simply creating their Aspect, these actions tend to have an odd offshoot, or rather side effect, of healing to them. When a Maid creates their Aspect, they may unknowingly be healing someone that they never even considered to be in need of such a service. The same goes for the Maids who create through their Aspect, though this can be one on a far broader, or perhaps even more personal, scale. After all, when creating through one’s Aspect, it is often an action that requires a more direct approach from the Maid. No longer do they sweep the halls or dust the artifacts of a castle, but they now have a far better say as to what happens in the castle; they have more control over it. Although they will never reach the levels of control that a Muse or Lord holds over the castle that is their Aspect, they most certainly are ones who hold the ability to come close to such power.

The role of a Maid is one of great importance, yet also one often looked over. They are the ones who help to bring and maintain balance in a group, no matter how many conflicts seem to threaten the stability of it all. Although such a task is one that often calls upon their powers of creation to be used, and still be given very little reward for their efforts, such a fact is one that the Maid can learn to live with. Of course, there may be moments of hot-headedness from the Maid when it comes to their efforts of healing and creating being unacknowledged, but so is often the life of the Creative Classes. After all, some of the best creators are those who were rarely truly appreciated during their time of life.

A Maid is a healer, creator, and a cleaner. They are meant to fix what has been broken, polish what has become rusted, grimy, or smudged, and, most importantly, love what has been neglected. Their Aspect was once left in such a state of disrepair, and the Maid is not one afraid to admit that it was by their own hand. Becoming lost in pettiness, hatred, and fear is often problem the Maid is known to have. It is only when they enter such a state of mind that not only themself, but other things and peoples around them will begin to truly suffer and descend into a state of disarray. After all, when the bringer of balance no longer does their job, who is going to be the one to look after the castle and the people who reside in its kingdom? Perhaps the Knight, though they are most certainly not ones meant to clean things up.

No, a group without a Maid, or at least one who does not play their part, is most certainly a group destined to be filled with many moments of internal and external strife, complications, and struggles. Considering the nature of the Maid, and how people are often drawn towards them, chances are that the Maid will most likely find at least one or a few people within the group worth the time and energy in healing whatever they lack of the Maid’s Aspect. After all, even the most stubborn Maids will always have their weak points - those bleeding hearts inside of their chests - and there will always be the people they simply cannot say no to, for better or for worse.

Ultimately, though, a Maid is someone who merely looks towards doing the right thing - even if that “right thing” holds questionable morals in order to achieve it. Maids can be excellent friends and allies to have, primarily due to their dedicated nature. While at first they may have been more than ready to put someone in front of themself and their Aspect, the Maid has learned through all of the hardships and trauma from such self-destructive actions that, truly, if one wishes to be the change in other people’s lives, or even the world, they must first change how they treat themself, flaws and everything. They have learned that in order to see the true value and worth in everything and everyone, they must first value themself and their Aspect.

Once they manage to climb over this obstacle that is their hatred and/or fear of their Aspect, they will manage to see the good in not only it, but also themself. When they achieve this state of realization will they be allowed to begin their own journey of personal healing. Such a journey will be long, and at times seemingly treacherous. As long as the Maid keeps to the path that they set forth themself, then it will be their true self that will be there to greet them. When they shake hands, they will finally become the mystical, magical mender they were born to be. For it is not the Witch who sews the clothes and relationships when they have become torn and ragged, it is not the Bard who keeps everything in order and equally distributed, and it is not the Thief who is capable of restoring what once seemed lost and forgotten. No, it is the Maid who does this, and it is why they are one of the most important players out of any of them.

#Maid #Maid Class #Homestuck #Hiveswap #Maid Analysis

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omegatheunknown · 3 years ago

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AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...

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pekuliar · 4 years ago

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it’s been a while since I last did any art so I tried my hand at redesigning katniss’s hair throughout the trilogy — basically this stems from my not getting to do anything as head costumer of this year’s college musical 😭

Essentially, this is how I’d design the movie’s wigs to be a little more realistic in showing the passage of time. They’re less “pretty” for sure but I’m a sucker for realistic hair (see: Natasha’s shitty grown-out blonde dye job in Endgame, Daenarys’s battle-worn braid with strands just falling out of it, Elizabeth Swann’s grimy hair and gradual tan).

Natural cut/colour:

Not much to say about this other than that Katniss has dark hair, and it’s probably going to lie limp and flat without the luxury of styling products

It would probably also be shorter, juuust long enough to braid

Styled in the Capitol:

It is my personal belief that all tributes get an ANTM-style “makeover” in the Capitol. What, the Capitol waxes all their hair and erases their scars, but doesn’t give them fresh trims/perms/deep conditioning/new dye jobs??? C’mon they’d totally try and “Barbie-fy” Katniss.

So here I have her with hair extensions, a curly perm and a dye job. Just because it would “bring out her olive skin”, but also she’d look so uncomfortable in the sudden So-Cal glam makeover and that would play out rly interestingly

I didn’t exactly know what to do with her hair for the interview, so this is sort of a rough approximation. It looks very 18th century, but then again that perfectly fits with the decadence and frivolity of the Capitol.

(This can apply for both the 74th and 75th btw.)

The Games

Katniss’s hair would start lightly styled into a braid — I made it a fishtail here instead of her usual 3-strand, just to juxtapose how she’s been “prettied” up for the cameras with what’s actually about to happen to her. She’s been glammed up to get murdered.

And of course we see the payoff of that completely delusional notion — her hair goes limp in the heat/humidity/sweat/grease, strands fall out everywhere, and she’s covered in dirt and grime. The hair extensions are falling out and becoming just dead weight. She’s dying of dehydration and no longer the capitol’s District 12 Barbie. I made the dirt more greenish just because she’d probably come into contact with a lot of moss and rotting tree matter here.

Side note, I HATE it when female characters in fight scenes have ponytails/braids/updos, and they fall/are knocked down, and suddenly their entire mass of hair is just out in the next scene. Like damn u got punched so hard it just vaporised ur ponytail band huh.

District 13

With no more stylists and styling products, Katniss’s Barbie Doll dye-job grows out. It’s ugly and uneven. The extensions come out, and her hair is cut once into her original utilitarian shoulder-length cut. I’d imagine the D13 citizens are allowed one haircut a year, to save resources/time.

The half-n-half hair is ugly. It’s a far cry from the camera-ready Capitol cover girl she was made to be all this time. It’s also a scar/brand on her now — the good food, spacious apartment, favourable treatment, & gorgeous gowns have been stripped away. All she has is her tiny family and the scars from the Games — nightmares, panic attacks, trauma, and a shitty haircut.

Final Battle

By the time Katniss and Johanna finished training to join the D13 military (bc yes, it happened and I wish the films showed how Long she was down in 13), her hair is grown out a little more. Still ugly and disjointed, but there’s a little more of herself than there was.

I didn’t want to draw yet another braid, so the idea is that when she joins the fight she has a small low bun instead. The rebels have been fighting in the Capitol for so long that she probably hasn’t had time to really do a nice braid.

The bun gets strands pulled out left and right. She also has soot and burns from the urban combat environment. Lots of explosions, lots of dusty rubble.

Happy (?) Ending

Time has passed. Katniss has spent her years rebuilding her life. Her natural hair grows back, 100% herself. No capitol styling, no explosive burns.

She never, ever does her “signature braid” again. It was the weight thumping against her neck when the gamemakers tried to burn her alive at age 16. It was the heavy thing plastered to her shoulder, wet with seawater, as jabberjays screamed at her with her sister’s voice. She can’t do it anymore.

So instead she goes back to 2 braids. Loose, flowing, easy for her kids to tuck daisies into. The same braids she wore when Peeta first saw her. They could represent a subconscious longing for the childhood she never truly had, or a final and complete departure from the arena, once and for all. We don’t truly know.

#the hunger games #hunger games #thg #jennifer lawrence #katniss #katniss everdeen #costume design #costumer #hair styling #hair #braids #wig design #hair design #my art

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tessandscottforever18 · 3 years ago

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Sept 17

The new “Cinderella,” directed by Kay Cannon, is a fresh take on a classic tale. While the plot is familiar (girl mistreated by her step-family, prince rebelling against the crown), there are elements that differentiate it from the other versions: the star-studded cast, radio remakes and original music, the historic-meets-modern fictional time period, to name a few. And just when you think the setting is traditional, similar to the other “Cinderella” films (royal castle, commoner village), look closely and you’ll spot the remarkable differences — one, perhaps the biggest, being Ella’s room.

In the 1950s animated film, Cinderella sleeps in a tiny tower, bare except an old bed and nightstand. In the 1997 movie starring Brandy, she doesn’t even have a bedroom, simply a wooden chair by the fire, and the same goes for the Cinderella character (played by Drew Barrymore) in 1998’s “Ever After.” The 2015 version with Lily James had Cinderella up in a dark, old attic, sleeping among dusty, unwanted items. But when it comes to the latest rendition starring Camila Cabello, her bedroom is more of a sanctuary than a prison, breaking the mold from the traditional grungy retreat with a safe space for dreaming.

This isn’t just speculation: I spoke with production designer Paul Kirby, who revealed that the team didn’t want Ella’s space to be depressing and dark, but instead wanted to make it look appealing and full of pops of color. And when thinking about Ella’s personality in the film, it only makes sense — she is full of confidence and determined to fill the village streets with her custom-made, colorful clothing designs one day.

Kirby decided to whitewash the stone walls to embrace the natural texture while transforming it into something “shabby chic.” Following that same style, they filled the set with vintage-looking furniture that “you might buy in an old store and think, that looks great,” he told Apartment Therapy.

To bring additional warmth in, Kirby installed skylights to brighten everything up and go against the traditional dark corridors that the Cinderella character is usually housed in.

What really brought out the optimistic feeling in Ella’s bedroom is the use of color. “In the basement, it had lots of interesting colors, which is easy to do because she’s playing with fabrics,” Kirby said. “I like spot detail of color, it’s like a final flourish on a cake, or a lovely decoration, when someone wears a lovely scarf with a pair of earrings, details, a bit of zing.”

Throughout the process, Kirby focused on designing everything behind the characters to reflect their style and personality. So by filling Ella’s room with light, pops of color, and vintage furniture that is one of a kind, Kirby gave her character what mostly all the other versions have lacked: an actual home. Sure, it was still a basement, but it’s all about making the best of every situation and making the room reflective of number one (you).

#camila cabello #cinderella #cinderella promo

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sunnydaleherald · 3 years ago

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter - Sunday, August 22

Joyce: You going out? Buffy: Oh. Um . . . well, if it's okay. I, um . . . I'd like to find Willow and Xander. Joyce: Will you be slaying? Buffy: Only if they give me lip.

~~Dead Man’s Party~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Warren gets Charmed (Charmed crossover, Tara/Willow, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Tara the Green (LoTR crossover, Tara/Éowyn, G) by ChronicBookworm

Quiet (Buffy/Angel, T) by ancslove

Don't steal a thief's gimmick (The Flash crossover, The Trio, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Anya and the Goblin King (Anya/Spike, T) by creatureofhobbit

The Last Time (Buffy/Angel, T) by ARoadInCapeCod

Hell Of A Lie (Fred, T) by TanithClaraComet_BillPip

Any Other Way (Angel, G) by TanithClaraComet_BillPip

The Last Time (Buffy/Angel, T) by ARoadInCapeCod

[Chaptered Fiction]

Killer Attraction Chapter 7 (Faith/Buffy, M) by RavenclawSlayer

i don't like a gold rush Chapter 2 (Faith/Buffy, M) by IzzieBee

Sparks In Dust Chapter 7 (Tara/Willow, E) by GrimCityGirl

We're as Sick as our Secrets Complete (Multiple crossovers, Faith/Buffy, M) by StrangeBint

Doubles Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NR) by 19BBY

The path to redemption Chapter 52 (Tara/Willow, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

The Hobbit: The Unexpected Companions Chapter 20 (Tolkien crossover, Tara/Willow, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Caller of the Aspects Chapter 17 (Vaesen crossover, Tara/Willow, T) by Rutkowski

Guardian Doyle Chapter 4 (Cordelia/Doyle, NR) by GM3

Angel's Destiny Chapter 4 (Lawson/OC, T) by kasey1939

Near to the Wild Heart Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, M) by toooldforthis_ef

Magical Investigators and their Case Files Chapter 1 (Multiple crossovers, Tara/Willow, T) by Rutkowski

Out of Time: 1942 Chapter 5 (HP crossover, Buffy/Tom Riddle, M) by Aynn_Ward

Pictures of You Chapter 72 (Buffy/Spike, E) by kats_meow

The Queen Chapter 3 (Descendants crossover, T) by VioletRoseAramis

The Slayer and the Blinder Chapter 18 (Peaky Blinders crossover, M) by StoryQueen

Blessings Bright Part 10 (Willow/Angel, M) by Ladyfae (Ladysaille)

Hunter No More Chapter 3 (SPN crossover, Angel/Dean Winchester, E) by XxDemiDevilxX

The Future is Ours Chapter 33 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by DarkEternity96

Meet Me at Midnight Complete (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Dusty

Deeper than Blood Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Blackmysteria

Bite Your Tongue Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by hostile17

The Sphere Chapter 23 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Coraline

Inherent Qualities Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Doublemeat Palace

The Tiger is Out Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Cosmic Tuesdays

Big Bad Girls Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Amina

Razing the Veil Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC17) by Eurydice

Faith Sheppard Part 22 (Stargate Atlantis crossover, Faith, PG) by hermione2be

Buffy In Gotham Yette - v. t. To Concede (13+) by Beriaearwen

A Fix in Time Chapter 7 (MCU crossover, FR13) by mmooch

The Muse Chapter 4 (Gilmore Girls crossover, Buffy, FR18) by Wrytergrrrl

Persuaded Chapter 6 (Multiple crossovers, Buffy/Dean Winchester, FR18) by Wrytergrrrl

Burning Bright Chapter 5 (The Walking Dead crossover, Buffy, FR13) by MirroredIllusions

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: faith and jenny by halfrek

[Tara & Willow] Love by Petty Pay

Buffy & Angel | The One That Got Away by Little Tree Productions

Dawn Summers | DNA by Whatshowruwatching

Rebel Yell | Spike by Eliza Edits

[Reviews & Recaps]

[META] I've Always Been Bad (An analysis of 'School Hard') by HerInsectReflection

Discussion of 4.11 "Soulless" and 4.12 "Calvary" by Stake fodder

Empty Places by yetanotherbuffyblog

Becoming Buffy Podcast Live Stream by Becoming Buffy Podcast

[Recs]

I highly recommend watching this video. It's a great analysis of Connor that might give you some new insight on his character. recced by moviephil4315

[Fandom Discussions]

Faith and Buffy's last scene in Revelations by r2dh2

Rewrite any scene by darkspook

Buffy Relationships (A polite, and civil place to discuss Buffy ship opinions!) by BuffyNvrForgets

Favorite Wolfram and Hart Employee (not Counting Team Angel in s5 by Gigibean3

About Dawn and more by ILovewillow

Buffy and Jesus Christ by Josh

by DanSlayer

Other Hellmouths by PuckRobin

Buffy S2 Appreciation Thread! by Opening_Knowledge868

Why did the Scoobies underutilize Anya's knowledge and experience so much? by DrPepper450

Anya the Conformist by Moon_Logic

The dresses of Buffy. Discuss, rate or just admire. by Gigibean3

Song in All The Way? by FoodForTh0ts

Has anyone participated in a SocialEvents123.com Buffy trivia night? by mrsndn

The best thing about btvs season 2 by imissthembutitwasntadisaster

I’m projecting onto Giles again because it’s 3am by melonsmessymusings

If I could reach into the show and pull out one single thing from the canon, it would be that one line in Normal Again by herinsectreflection

Did you guys watch Angel when it was on TV? by spuffybot

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

Dexter & Buffy The Vampire Slayer Are In The Same Universe Theory Explained at Screen Rant

The Scooby Gang’s Magical Mishaps, Ranked at Screen Rant

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter Join the editor team

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #ats

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mistycarolina · 5 days ago

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MISTY MOUNTAIN, CAROLINA;

Rich kid gone wrong? Yeah. You could say that. From his perspective, Misty Mountain is a sad, pathetic little lick of a town, and the Rebel has always fuckin’ resented the place. The last decade of his life has been spent in its dusty streets, and not a single moment of it trying to get along with the strange ways of Carolina; but who could blame him? He’s always been looked at like an outsider, since the first moment they crossed into the shadow of the Mountain. He’d never forget the eyes that followed their car, or the neighbors who shied away from him; his classmates at his brand new elementary school that tried their hardest to break him with horror stories. They told him folk tales warning him from the woods, as if his family couldn’t afford to raze them to the ground, and even as a little boy he could only think of a few words to describe the feeling, ‘Fuck. This. Place.’ The disdain the town already held for them couldn’t be considered a mystery, their move into town had been no surprise. Not when his family were the brand new owners of the Archer Farm estate, acres upon acres of land that produced a coveted product across the globe: the Appalachian truffle. Their fortune was set to grow, his father was set to become a legend among the men in their bloodline, and Rebel? He was going to inherit the whole thing. His father fed him tales of a town that was his to build: their paradise, hidden in the mountains… If he had a single fuck to give about Misty Mountain it might’ve gotten him excited. Instead, it just fed resentment for its streets, and its people. He fuckin’ hated the swamps, and its dirt roads, and god, did he hate the people who loved them. The long-gone Archer family (dead and buried, snuffed out by the likes of the Pascal family – allegedly!) and their Estate was known for many things, but greed and murder are at the top of the list. How many countless bodies had been disappeared into it’s soil over the decades, by the Banks’ and Pascal families alike? How many limbs had been torn apart by the Archer’s prized truffle pigs? Nobody knew an exact count, but it was hard to deny the heaviness that hung in the air around the property. It was like Rebel’s family inherited the reputation when they moved on in – who else would want it but someone equally as malicious? Rebel never considered his family evil. He’d never known anyone to murder in cold blood until he moved to Misty Mountain… But he’d certainly felt something change in himself, and his parents, over the years. Sometimes, he doesn’t know where his mind goes. Sometimes, the terrible things he does weigh heavy on his conscience, but more often than not it just feels like they’re feeding him – or maybe some monster within him. He spills out threats like he’s chewing on a fucking snack, and throws his fists like a celebration. It feels like something’s got its claws in him – in like a metaphorical way, obviously.,, but fuck does it feel good.

SPECIAL CONNECTIONS:

THE BRAT: He’s the villain in more than one person’s story, but there’s a small and select few who get to see even the slightest ounce of humanity from him — or maybe it’s really just the Brat. They bicker like an old married couple – or maybe like a couple of siblings? – and while it may seem hostile to outside eyes, she’s the closest thing he could consider to a best friend. They spend together, they scheme together, and among their common threads? A love for vitriol and chaos ties them most closely together. THE BOYS: He and Major Danger are natural born enemies after he smashed Major’s nose in during elementary school; he doesn’t know why he did it – but he doesn’t regret it, either. Mr. Brightside would probably take his fuckin’ head on a stick if someone offered it up after as many verbal altercation as they’ve gotten into. And after being beaten nearly to death? Moth Man fears for his life around Rebel… "SIDEKICK": The worst of the worst for him, though, might be his most recent foray into blackmail, with "Sidekick." He hadn’t meant to find her stripping on the outskirts of the next town over – hadn’t followed her there, or anything. It was a delicious little secret, though, one that he couldn’t pass up having a part in. He’s a big tipper, and he’s not the worst critic to have in an audience. He’s protective in a way that he doesn’t like to think too hard about; the guy likes to fight! So what if his fists have fucked up more than a few too-handsy patrons of the club? Rebel isn’t sure if he wants to tell anyone, so he’s keeping it to himself for now. Maybe he’ll find some reason to use it against her in the future, or maybe he’ll end up liking her a little too much to go through with it. Either way, for now, Rebel likes having regular plans on the weekends.

JOIN HERE.

#skeleton rp #supernatural rp #horror rp #mystery rp #new rp #oc rp #town rp #small rp #small town rp #southern rp #literate rp #plot driven rp #period rp #secrets rp #bio rp #choice rp

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siiinfilled · 4 years ago

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for @sarcasmpersonified181’s kota from eina verse: main

The source of kyber crystals had always been under the Empire’s control. These were highly prized items that were used to create lightsabers, and it was important that her parents kept a close watch over their mining and production. So, when reports of a new source of the crystals was revealed, they knew that they had to claim it before the remaining Rebels did. Eina and Kota had left the Imperial palace right away, with barely enough time for them to leave a note for Zahira to explain where they had gone. Ever the tease, Eina had left a new lacy lingerie set for Zahira to wear when they returned, and off she and Kota went.

This wasn’t the first time that their trio became a duo, but she still felt nervous as they flew across the galaxy and landed on the dusty, deserted planet where the crystals had been found. Her own lightsaber was sheathed to her side, well within her reach, and she glanced up and Kota and then at the sky, where the other fighters were drifting. “Tell them to fan out. I don’t want anyone else flying in while we’re down here.” High above them, Kota’s starship was waiting for instructions and backup. They weren’t as heavily armed as her siblings were when they went on their own missions ( definitely nothing like Luke’s security when he went on the offensive ), but they had more than enough to defend themselves if they were attacked.

#eina viribus ( starter )#sarcasmpersonified181

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ravenbrenna09 · 5 years ago

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Jij Verliest Teaser - Press Start

As mentioned previously, here is my teaser for Jij Verliest, my story about Twitch Streamer Robbe. I’m pretty bad about giving opening comments for stuff like this, but all of the information regarding Jij Verliest will be linked below if you want to check out the information there.

While I originally had the idea for this ages ago, I was unsure if I was going to actually write it because the rest of the story will be in Robbe’s POV. But, when I decided that I wanted to do a teaser, I felt like this was the only way that I could genuinely do it without giving you pieces that I’ve already written. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this teaser and I can’t wait to show you this incredible journey that we’re going to go on.

Announcement

AO3

...

Dinsdag 17:45

There was a little bar down the street from the apartment complex that the group of them always seemed to find their way to at the end of the week. There wasn’t anything fancy about it, no pounding music or neon lights, and only a handful of signatures drinks that changed with each month and a menu full of delicious food. There were a handful of televisions on the walls and older pictures that had to have been taken eighty years ago. There was a jukebox that was shoved in the corner that would play every song imaginable, recycling through each genre with a high frequency. The bar was family-run and operated, passed down from father-to-son and then father-to-daughter, and had managed to retain the homely vibe that had been since it had originally opened years ago.

Eagerly stepping out of the harsh summer sun, Sander Driesen pushed back the strands of his hair that had stuck to his forehead. Even as the sudden burst of air-conditioning cooled his entire body, the stickiness of the sweat from his walk still pinned his black shirt to his skin. Thankfully, he had chosen to wear his sneakers instead of his Doc Martens, or else he would’ve been dying.

Behind the bar, the afternoon bartender, and the owner, Lilly, barely glanced up from her job counting down the drawer to glance over at him with one raised eyebrow at his attire. Yeah, he thought, a black t-shirt and black denim jeans and a leather jacket firmly in his grasp (which he only wore at work because his boss liked to keep the tattoo parlor on the verge of an ice age) was probably not the best idea for making the trek to the bar. But, Sander had forgotten his metro card in the apartment this morning… so he was forced to walk the entire way or wait for Senne and likely get put to work in the meantime.

The extra money would’ve been nice and Sander loved what he did. But, he had spent the majority of the afternoon working on a rather large dragonfly piece on a girl’s shoulder. And, it was a detailed and intricate design that had been designed by her mother and she wanted it to come out perfect. Sander understood the need (he had a quote on his rib that his mother used to say) and so, he knew that the task required his full attention, or else he feared that he would ruin the sentimental tattoo.

But, Sander had managed to complete it with only a few minutes over his shift. When the girl had seen it with the help of well-placed mirrors. At the sight of it, the girl had started tearing up and tackled Sander on the spot, thanking him unintelligibly into his shoulder. But, the amount of effort that it took to complete the tattoo with the meticulous focus that it required like one of Sander’s favorite pieces. And, he was in desperate need of a glass of ice-cold beer and relaxing night out with his friends.

Even if he had to walk in the summer heat to get there.

Smiling weakly at Lilly, he raised his hand and extended his pinky upward. As she counted the rest of the money, Lilly nodded her head in his direction as he headed to the back of the bar to one of the bar tables that stood there. His table of choice stood near the jukebox and it was the one that they tried to get whenever they could manage it. Nearly collapsing in one of it’s four unmatched chairs, Sander let out a sigh, hanging the leather jacket in his hand on the back of it. His skin was flushed and burning beneath his clothes and outside of them.

“You’re here early.”

As she walked up to the table, Lilly placed a coaster against the table before setting the glass of beer on top of it. Sander grinned over at her appreciatively before taking a sip of the cool drink… and then took a large one as a comforting chill flashed through his body. Lilly tilted her head to the side, her dusty brown ponytail bobbing as she did so. The woman was tall and slender, barely looking a day over thirty despite nearing her fiftieth birthday. Every time that Sander came into the bar, Lilly would always treat him like her son and Sander always welcomed the easy affection.

Sander shrugged his shoulders. “I walked really fast to get out of the sun.”

“I can tell,” Lilly spoke, materializing a wet rag out of nowhere. She pressed the damp towel against his forehead. The rag was cool to the touch like it had just been submerged in a bucket of ice-cold water. A slight moan slipped past Sander’s lips as he curled like a cat in the direction of the cool rag. The woman let out a laugh, practically half a snort. “Here, you can have it. I have more rags behind the bar.”

Sander eagerly swiped it from her hands, wiping the sweat off his arm covered in tattoos before moving to the other which was completely bare. “Thanks, Lil.”

The front door let out a ring signaling that there was a new person had entered the bar on the sunny Tuesday afternoon. “I’ll be right there!” she called as she briefly took the towel back. She folded it in her hands before placing it against the back of Sander’s neck. Sander let out a groan of thanks, placing his head against the cool wood of the desk, relishing the cold chill of the table in comparison to his flushed forehead. “That should help you cool off a little bit faster. Let me know if it needs to be sprayed with cold water again.”

“Thank you.”

Lilly chuckled, moving away from him and patting his shoulder.

Despite the low hum of the televisions, each of which likely had a different station on, Sander could hear the woman talking to someone about what they wanted and the patron’s quiet voice. With each passing second that he spent in the bar, Sander could feel the flush on his body, the by-product from the heat and his walk, and further amplified by his darker aesthetic, return slowly back to the temperature around him. Lilly always kept the bar cool, going lower whenever she expected there to be more people to be in the enclosed space at night, and Sander had never been more thankful for her planning than he was now.

Without warning, the jukebox kicked on. Because it was almost an arm’s length away, he could pinpoint the metallic hum above the commotion of the bar, the brief pause of energy kicking through the machine, waking it up, and roaring it to life. The hum continued on, the interface of the machine trying to figure out what song to play, and then, finally, the opening chords began to play. The music, the notes, the lyrics washed over him like a tidal wave, crashing over him and wrapping him in a blanket of security, even as his body continued to return down to a normal temperature.

David Bowie.

Rebel, Rebel.

On instinct, his body reacted to the song. He sat up from the table and tilted his head back, letting the chorus wash over him. Rebel, Rebel was one of his favorite songs and David Bowie was his all-time favorite artist so he really couldn’t help himself. His foot tapped against the metal bar of the stool, he drummed his fingers against the edge of the table, and hummed the lyrics under his breath. If it had just been him and Lilly, he might’ve stood on the stools and belted out the lyrics, but she would give him a nasty look if he tried it with customers around.

Humming out the chorus, Sander opened his eyes. His body had almost completely returned to normal temperature now. The wet rag that Lilly had given him was only succeeding in getting the collar of his shirt soaking wet. Removing the towel, he reached out to grab his beer, the condensation on the chill glass making his fingertips slip a little, as he carefully tried to catch a drink.

But, as he’s putting the slick glass of beer back down against the coaster, as the main chorus of Rebel, Rebel ripped through his body like an electric shock, he caught sight of the man at the bar and Sander was certain that the breath was ripped out of his lungs.

The man was leaning against the counter, a half-drunk glass of beer in front of him. His brown hair was short but curled naturally at the tips and he had wide brown eyes that were focused on Lilly, listening to her talk with apt attention. His smile tugged up the corners of his lips, a pair of dimples popping up. Even with such a marginal distance between them, Sander could pinpoint the freckles on his cheeks, his artistic eye naturally finding a pattern to them. Lilly said something that ripped a lovely giggle out of him, shaking his head as he took a drink of his beer.

Fuck, Sander thought, swallowing. He’s beautiful.

In fact, Sander was certain that he had never seen a man, or anyone, look as beautiful as he did right now. He was sure that no one else in his life could ever possibly compare. If he had his camera, the one that Senne and Amber had gotten him for his birthday in April, he would’ve taken a picture, or two, or twenty, enough to memorize him, to look back on his beauty, to this moment. But, Sander already knew that none of them could ever possibly compare to the real thing, to the man standing there, leaning against the counter, looking like a beautiful angel that had just descended onto the earth.

Sander felt something stir in his stomach as the man glanced at his watch before taking the final drink of his beer. Lilly said something, probably offering him a drink, but the man shook his head, pulling his wallet out of his pocket to pay. He was going to leave, walk out the door to the bar, and Sander would likely never see him again. Sander needed to meet him, to open his mouth to introduce himself, maybe get out a line or two to make an impression that would allow them to see each other again. He didn’t care that Lilly was there, that she would likely tease him about it the moment that he was gone, but it didn’t matter because he could take the teasing.

All that mattered was that he introduced himself before he walked out the door.

Gripping onto his glass, Sander took the towel off his neck and took another sip of his beer. Then, he shifted in his seat, moving to get up, to walk over to the bar, trying to find something memorable to say. But, the front door opened, the bell sounded throughout the bar, and Sander turned to see a man walking into the bar with a duffle bag over his shoulder. The beautiful man turned, taking a step to the door, and the new one met him halfway, grinning down at him, “Here’s where you went off to.”

“Sorry,” the beautiful man managed before the new one ducked down to press a kiss against his lips. It was a quick and fleeting kiss, but Sander felt something stab into his chest and that the seconds dragged on. Trying his best to not seem disappointed, he shifted back into his seat and simply took another drink to stop himself from going over there. However, he couldn’t turn his head away, his eyes trained on the smaller of the two. “I know that you and Leon have an important trial coming up. I didn’t want to get you in trouble if I heard critical details about your strategy.”

“It’s okay,” the man spoke, grinning down at him. Then, he nodded towards the door, reaching out to take the beautiful boy’s hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get home to your mom’s place for your party or else Jens might wring my neck in for stealing you away from all your friends celebrating.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind it,” the smaller one remarked. His boyfriend grinned down at him. “He knows how much I don’t like surprise parties.” But, still, he turned towards Lilly, smiling over at her. “Thanks for the beer and the talk. I hope everything goes well with your daughter’s schooling. I’m sure she’ll do great.”

The bartender smiled over at them, already cleaning the glass of beer that he had used. “Anything for the road for you two?”

“No, we’re good. Thank you though. We aren’t going far,” his boyfriend spoke. Wrapping an arm around the beautiful man’s shoulder, he tugged him in the direction of the door, pushing it open with his duffle bag. Lilly sent them a “good day”, but it was muffled as Sander found his eyes trained on the beautiful man with his bright grin that was pointed at his boyfriend. The man easily fell into his embrace, wrapping an arm around him, and let himself be dragged out of the bar.

The door of the bar slammed shut, triggering the bell again, and Rebel, Rebel abruptly ended to his right, shifting to a sad song that made Sander want to shovel quarters in the machine until he found a song that would summon the man back again. “Are you feeling any better?” Lilly questioned, taking the empty glass from his fingertips and replacing it with a full glass.

The answer was no, but his body temperature had returned to normal.

In fact, with the guy out of the bar and out of sight, dragged away by his boyfriend, and Sander didn’t even get the chance to put a name to a face that was that beautiful, he felt strangely cold. Despite the summer heat outside and the warm burst of hot air that had flooded when the door had opened, his body shivered almost violently and his stomach churned. The two of them had looked happy and in love… besides, maybe it was for the best that Sander didn’t get his name.

“Yes, I am,” Sander spoke, realizing that he hadn’t responded to Lilly’s question. “My body temperature has now completely returned to normal.” Lilly chuckled. Sander wanted to put the beautiful guy and his boyfriend out of his mind, move on because he knew that he would never see them again. But, somehow, his mouth was opening and he was asking, “Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” Lilly remarked, reaching out to grab the towel from the table. Sander hid his disappointment by taking a drink of his new beer. “He had just come in to have a drink while waiting for his boyfriend to get off work. Apparently, he works at a law firm near here.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Sander remarked, grinning over at her. “Generally, the only people who come in here are regulars.”

Lilly rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder before moving back to the bar again. As she moved to continue counting the drawer, Sander glanced at the clock that was nestled between two pictures. It was past 18:00 now which meant that Lilly’s relief would be here any minute. And, his mind reminded him, his roommates would be here any minute now.

The door opened, the bell rung, and Sander looked, hoping it was the beautiful man once again. But, it was Noor, dressed in a long-sleeve, blue velvet dress that went to her mid-thigh. As the door slammed close, she grinned over at Lilly before moving to Sander. She threw her arms around his neck in a hug before pushing herself up on the seat beside him. “Hey, how was your day? I came in to get a late lunch with you, but Emilie said that you were really busy with a customer. Did you get her piece done?”

“Yeah,” Sander replied. “I finally managed to get it done. Where’s Senne? Wasn’t he picking you up today?”

“Yeah, he’s still a little behind me,” Noor remarked, smiling over at him. “He ran into someone that he knew on our walk here and stopped to talk to them because it had been a while. But, it’s too hot outside and I wanted to get inside.” Noor gestured in the direction of Sander’s black outfit. “Something that I’m sure that you know a lot about.”

“While this is my normal aesthetic, you know that I would be wearing shorts if my boss didn’t require us to wear jeans,” Sander remarked. Noor smirked over at him, shaking her head. “When are you coming in to get that tattoo that you wanted to honor your grandma? You know that I will do it if you come in.”

“Well, you aren’t working on weekends lately and I do have my own job, you know?” Noor remarked, raising an eyebrow. Sander nodded his head. She had a point. His boss had stopped scheduling him on weekends as of late. “And, you’re the only one in that tattoo shop that I would trust to do something this important to me.” Noor squinted her eyes, looking at him with a curious expression “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know,” Noor spoke. “You seem a bit off.”

The image of the beautiful man, the one whose name that he didn’t get the chance to know, flashed in his mind and his stomach gave a painful squeeze. But, Sander nodded his head to ease Noor’s worry, smiling over at his best friend and saying, “Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry about you.”

“Yeah, Sander,” Senne spoke, appearing to his left. The brunet had two glasses of beer balancing in one hand and Noor’s favorite drink in the other. The girl took her drink with a thankful smile and Senne practically thrust one of the beer glasses in Sander’s. Now that he wasn’t doing a balancing act, he wrapped an arm around his neck and placed a kiss against Sander’s cheek. “How was work?”

“Good. You?” Sander questioned as Senne moved to sit in one of the remaining chairs. As Senne launched into a tale about what happened at work, Sander tried his best to listen. However, his mind kept conjuring images of the beautiful man against the bar. What if Sander had talked to him before he left? What if his boyfriend never showed? What if he was there to see him? Internally shaking the thought from his head, there was no use in trying to imagine another time where things were a little bit different.

It was highly likely that Sander would never see him again.

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