#helmer bags

[parveenpportfolio]

Section One: Nora Helmer

Polymer Clay

In ‘A dolls house’ macarons are a key symbol of Nora’s secrecy and deceit. A form of rebellion against Torvald her controlling and objectifying husband. I wanted to experiment with polymer clay and create a set of colourful macarons. I chose to use pastel colours to reflect the childlike nature forced onto Nora’s life. I rolled out the clay and cut out thick layers to create the cream filling. And for the more textured edges I used a stippling tool to poke small holes. I repeated this process for each macaron until I had a set of them.

Felt Needling

I created this initial trial to familiarise myself with the medium so I created a bursting star. I also hand embroidered this and used beads in the middle. 

For the piece about Nora I felt needled macarons spilling out of the bag, to sort of represent the secret of her debt spilling out at the end of the play. I used pieces of cotton for the inside filling to make it fluffy, on the other side of my piece I created a checkered pattern a which gives off this domestic feel and then hand embroidered the phrase “shh!” Using red thread for contrast. 

[madzia5823]

Leslie Mann & Judd Apatow Hot or Not?

The 90th Annual Academy Awards in Los Angeles 03/04/2018

https://www.facebook.com/Inspirationlovephotographycamera/

https://www.instagram.com/inspirationlovephotography

[dindjarins04]

Rex X FEM!CLONE FORCE 99!Reader

Defective

Summary: You were apart of Clone Force 99 but you left them to fight for the Republic. They all reaepected your decision considering the Republic saved your life and it was only fair to give them your service in return.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of death, ends in angst.

"Geonosis was a fun experience," Rex said to you as you both walked down the halls, helmers tucked beneath your arms.

"Geonosis, I've been there before and it was horrible," You said with a soft laugh.

"I was being sarcastic,"

"I could tell, no one likes Geonosis," You stopped at a door then opened it, gesturing for Rex to follow you.

"Wow, you for your own room?" He asks.

"Yeah, being one of the only girls in the clone army has its benefits," You say, placing down your helmet before taking off your armour and neatly stacking it at the bottom of your wardrobe.

(Your clone armour)

Rex averts his gaze when seeing you just in your blacks.

"Rex, you can look, I invited you in here," You say with a light chuckle and he turns, face burning. "So, are you going to say anything?" You ask, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I... I've heard word that you're joining clone force 501st,"

"Cool,"

"That's my legion," He says with a large smile.

"That's even better!" You exclaim before laying back in your bed.

"Do you miss them?"

"Of course I do...but once I've served my time here, I'll be going back. I also have this comm link so I can still talk to them. Wrecker would've killed me if I didn't take this," You say with a chuckle and you feel your bed dip.

"It's going to be different, you know, we have orders to follow," He says.

"I understand," You sit up next to him. "But at least I'll be taking them from you,"

"Heh, do you like taking orders from me?" He asks suggestively.

"Yes, Captain," You wink and he leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

~~~

Rex watches from the door way as Omega sits beside Wrecker, waiting for him to wake up after having his chip removed. He looks down at the helmet he holds and smiles warmly, tears threatening to spill.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Hunter said, breaking Rex out of his trance.

"I was the one that did it," Rex responds.

"You didn't. Your chip did," Hunter tries to reassure. Rex bends down and gently places your helmet in his bag before picking up his helmet and placing it over his head.

"Does Omega know about her?"

"No...not yet,"

~Flashback~

"Execute Order 66,"

You and Ashoka stood together after the Siege of Mandalore. Anakin walks through and stands behind you.

"We did good today," He says, putting a hand on your shoulder and Ahsoka's. "Obi-Wan will be happy we caught Maul,"

"Maul will be happy to see Kenobi," You respond. "I'm just happy to see my brother's again, my service is over,"

"The war is finally over," Ashoka says with a soft sigh. "We just need to find Palpatine," You turn your head to the door where Rex was.

"You can go," Anakin says, winking. He knew. Rex told him about your relationship. You quickly walked over to the doors but they opened before you got there. Rex was there, blasters pointed towards you. "Woah," Anakin says, coming over to you. "What's happened?"

"The Jedi are accused of treason, you are to be terminated," Rex growls.

"Since when?!" Anakin exclaims.

"Rex, this isn't you-"

"Good soldiers follow orders," He says. "Move. Or you'll be considered a traitor for helping the Jedi," He growls.

"No! I won't you allow to kill-"

"NOOO!"

"(Y/N)!!" Ashoka quickly catches your body while Anakin force pushes all clones away.

~Present day~

"Don't beat yourself over it,"

"I killed Omega's sister. Jango's bloodline daughter. I pulled the trigger...before the chip was removed," Hunter pats his shoulder.

"It's okay Rex, mistakes are made,"

"I killed the only person I ever loved,"

~★~‡~†~†~‡~★~

[moonlightchn]

¡𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘!

🌗 𝖂𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘

For: @cb-museclub Irene 🌸

From: Chris.

"You're literally sleeping in my bed right now but knowing you, you'll wake up as soon as I walk out the door. I'm leaving these here for you to find. I'm sorry I wasn't around to share Christmas with you... But thank you for being so patient with me. I know I'm not perfect, but I'll be better for you- I promise. Wait for me, yeah? Just gotta deliver some things around and I'll be back. I love you."

Inside a paper bag resting in bed await to be opened: a small box with a silver bracelet inside, the pendant has an imprinted flower in it- A daffodil to match the girl's birth month. A neatly folded sky blue dress can be found under. Lastly, tied closed with a string, a book rests at the bottom of the bag- A handwritten dedication can be found on the first page, "Because you're greater than you know, and you will always be."

———

"HELMER. Why, Nora, how unreasonable and ungrateful you are. Haven't you been happy here?

NORA. No, never; I thought I was, but I never was.

HELMER. Not-not happy?

NORA. No, only merry. And you have always been so kind to me. But our house has been nothing but a playroom. Here I have been your doll wife, just as at home I used to be papa's doll child. And the children in their turn have been my dolls. I thought it fun when you played with me, just as the children did when I played with them. That has been our marriage, Torvald.

HELMER. There is some truth in what you say, exaggerated and overstrained though it be. But henceforth it shall be different. Playtime is over; now comes the time for education.

NORA. Whose education? Mine, or the children's?

HELMER. Both, my dear Nora.

NORA. Oh, Torvald, you can't teach me to be a fit wife for you."

[Fragment from "A Doll's House" - Henrik Ibsen.]

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[starrysebastians]

Of blood, sweat and mishaps

Summary : you’ve had a long journey in order to fight your way back home, and home sometimes holds surprises. Destroyer!Chris x reader, description of violence and sex. (i’ve never written smut before i have literally no idea what i’m doing don’t mind me) 

This was written for @baezen​’s the other guys writing challenge, with the prompt : i really wish you told me your mother was in town ; thank you for giving love to these other guys, I hope this will do!! 

It’s already dark outside when you leave the building, duffel bag hastily swung over your shoulders without you even registering its weight on your bruised body — you’ve been carrying this thing for over a month and you’ve become immune to it. Rather, your shoulders already constantly hurt and it doesn’t matter anymore because you just want to go home and spend an entire hour in a hot bath to wash away all the sweat and blood and dirt of the last few weeks.

"Hey!" You stop in your tracks, a tilt of your head being the only sign that you have actually heard and acknowledged the voice of your colleague rushing behind you, the precinct doors slamming behind the both of you. "Are you sure you don’t need a lift?"  

Sam catches up with you, a little out of breath, probably because he took the stairs and tried to beat you to the door. You smile, shaking your head. He’s looking you up and down and you know he wants to say you clearly are in no state to drive, or even to be standing upright. And driving you to your appartement isn’t a problem because it’s on his way to his own.

"It’s okay. I think I’m gonna crash at Chris’, it’s closer anyway." You shift from one foot to another, transferring the weight of your body and your weapons on the leg that hurts the least. Sam’s face morphs into understanding, a knowing smile stretching on his lips. You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help but chuckle.

"Right." He nods, taking a step back, then lifts up his chin. "Take the week off, you deserve it."

"Wasn’t planning on asking for permission, but I’m glad to know my break was approved."

He snorts, probably because you both know it’s true that you never ask for permission and you’re one of those agents who are literally their own boss, to their partners and bosses’ despair. It usually works out, and you’re one of their best. You’re about to cross the street when Sam’s voice echoes again in the busy street, slightly muffled by the sound of cars, honks, suitcases rolling on the ground, hitting holes and bumps on the pavement, the same ones that make people trip on their own feet.

"He was worried about you." You’re not facing your literal partner in crime anymore, and you don’t turn around to show him your little smile, but he probably knows anyway.

Green lights turn to red and you breathe in before crossing the street, taking in the sky and the stars starting to appear and twinkle around a full moon, clouds almost perfectly still on this day — it was sunny, apparently, but you spent the first half of the day fighting your way home, the other half writing a report and delivering long-awaiting data and compromising documents to the Bureau. Then you had to spend another hour promising everyone you were alright and not injured to the point where you had to go to a hospital, and now you could finally go home.

And in that case home isn't necessarily your cosy apartment, the one you had just finished re-painting and decorating before you left for your mission, but as cheesy at it sounds, home might have become a person.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach his apartment complex, but at least seven to cross the stairs when you realize the elevator still hasn't been fixed, painfully dragging your battered body up the wooden steps, a hand pressed to your ribs and stomach, and finally, another three minutes to dig out your spare key from that little pocket in your duffel bag, hand shaking as you miss the keyhole a few times before getting it right.

You don’t bother knocking or making your presence officially known because even though you've been gone for a month no one else has that key and he probably heard that your mission was over anyway. The slam of the door echoes behind you and you audibly groan, voicing your pain and exhaustion for the first time today.

"Honey I’m home," you call out sarcastically, letting your duffel bag hit the floor with a loud thump, slowly shrugging your leather jacket off — it falls from the coat hanger as you turn around but you don’t bother picking it up. Your body wouldn’t let you. "Remember when I said I was going on a small mission that would only take a few days? Well I was wrong."

Something drops on the kitchen table. A knife, a fork, a spoon — whatever, but something drops and clings and you hear him cough. A chair scrapping against the floor. You enter the bathroom. You smirk at your reflection in the mirror, splashing your face with water and watching droplets of blood trail down your cheeks and neck, hitting your already stained shirt.

"Turns out, it was the same group of freaking mad scientists we thought we dismantled last time. You know, that time Sam got shot?" You turn the faucet off.  "So I had to stay undercover the whole month." Hands all dried up, hair tied into a messy bun. A band-aid covering the cut on your forehead. Cream on your nose and bloody lip. "So. Yeah. That wasn’t planned."

You exit the bathroom, passing the entrance again, carefully avoiding tripping on your discarded combat boots lying on the wooden floor. They're full of mud and there is probably a lot of blood that you can't see. It’s usually very neat and clean here, all sorts of shoes lined up and in their place, a spotless wooden floor that contrasts with the white walls, and Chris would probably scold you if you didn't have a valid excuse right now.

You sigh, feet following the noise. "And my cover got blown yesterday. It was honestly one of the hardest missions I have ever been on." You shiver, pausing for a second as you close your eyes and try to shake flashbacks and images off your mind. You clear your throat, plastering a smile on your face even though Chris can't see you yet.

"Anyway — " There’s a small table right at the entrance of the living room, where you drop your gun and badge with a deafening bang.

There’s a small shit that’s being muttered over and over again but that you don’t really register, still not looking up. " — now that I killed them all I’m allowed to discuss secret details — remember their boss, Helmer? That was a nasty fight, ugh. I had to shoot him at point-blank range and I think I’ve still got pieces of his stupid brain in my hair." You shudder. "Ugh." You massage the back of your neck, rolling your head from left to right, cracking your bloody knuckles, while taking in the smell of his cooking with closed eyes.

You follow the smell, smiling softy as you enter the kitchen.

"Hey!" Chris rushes out of the room at the same time you step in, eyes wide as he takes in your form, his hands gently grabbing your forearms, caging you. Gently, tenderly, as his fingers run on your skin, but with a grip that feels urgent.

"Hey," you reply more softly, your voice still raspy. You blink, head titled to the side, grabbing onto him as well. Your hands find his toned stomach, relishing the warmth you have missed as you sigh contently. You refrain from resting your forehead on his chest, remembering the blood still splattered on your face and burning your skin, and the smell that has been invading your senses ever since you escaped literal hell.

So you gently cup his face with your hand, thumb brushing against his skin before stepping aside in order to enter the kitchen. Chris' arms reach out to you, in an attempt to keep you from entering the room, but you slip out of his embrace.

"Wait — "

"Oh — "

Your breath gets stuck in your threat, everything going still around you. You can’t even gasp or express your surprise, because every single bone and cell in your body has gone completely rigid. You stand here by the door, Chris' arms still outstretched in vain behind you, a new set of eyes staring back at you.

"You're… — " You gulp. No. “I didn't know you had company.” 

Not like this. It can't go like this. This gaze is unblinking, confused, curious, disgusted as it seems to scrutinize your outfit — ripped combat pants looking huge compared to your small feet and their dirty socks stained with mud and dust. Crumpled white shirt — more red than white. There's a wound on your stomach that won't stop bleeding. Arms painted red, blue and black with scratches and bumps and dirt smeared across your skin. Swollen lips parted and face sporting what probably looks like the stupidest facial expression ever.

Your hand find the back of your neck, angrily scratching your already chafed skin as you feel the discomfort settle into your chest, until you hear Chris clear his throat behind you, hand gently peeling your fingers off your skin, then sliding down to rest on the small of your back. You wince and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"Y/N," Chris sports a smile that looks very painful, mentally and physically. "Mom. Mom, Y/N. My colleague." A side glance. “And girlfriend.” 

There’s a small beat of silence where you think you’re going to pass out. She manages to look so composed despite her eyes literally screaming terror and horror and get this woman out of my son’s appartement ; and you, the FBI agent, look like a deer caught in headlights, a stuttering mess, shoulders dropped in despair. Maybe she would do a better job at being an undercover agent.

"I - shouldn’t shake your hand. Or, touch you...at all. I think you can guess why. See why. Clearly see why," your voice wavers. "But, um. It’s very nice to meet you. Ma’am. I should probably take a shower." You turn around, avoiding Chris' gaze, but only taking a few steps before stopping and turning back to him, resignation painted on your features.

You sigh, and try to whisper as you add : "I didn’t want to go to the hospital but I kinda need you to stitch me up right now." His blue eyes go to your stomach and his hand to his forehead, rubbing it tiredly.

"Yeah," he nods before twisting his body to face his mother, still quietly sitting at the dinner table. "Mom, I need to take care of her. We'll be here in half an hour, okay?"

You don't wait for her answer before heading straight to the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat with your eyes closed and lips in a thin line. You hear his feet on the bathroom tiles, the sound of his dress shirt ruffling as he crouches down in front of you, palms spreading warmth on your aching thighs.

"Hey," he mutters again, soft eyes looking up through his lashes as you open your own. The beginning of a smile and a small greeting is quickly turned into a wince as his fingers gently lift the hem of your top, to fabric sticking to your skin. "Sorry."

You stay silent, sighing and hissing and biting your lower lip as your eyes stay glued to the ceiling. Chris works in silence, like he always does, and like you always do when the roles are reversed. What is there to talk about? You both know it hurts, you both know the other is sorry that they're hurting you, and it's part of the job. But the silence isn't really about your wounds right now, and you're too mortified to even glance at his face. His bottom lip is probably stuck between his teeth, eyebrows set into a focused frown, hands steady as yours still tremble from this encounter.

"All done." Hands gently pressing a bandage to your wound then sliding back to your thighs, a sigh escaping his lips.

You meet his gaze and there's this small pause where you gaze into someone's eyes and both of you are serious but you don't know if it's truly serious or if you should laugh. You raise your eyebrows, slowly, gradually, until a smirk makes its way on your fellow agent's lips.

"You do have bits of…red stuff…in your hair."

You chortle, throwing your head back, tension in the shoulders easing.

You put your hands on his shoulders as your legs spread to let him get closer to you, between your knees, and as you look down to him and his locks you feel a sense of comfort wash over you - it's been a month, and you’ve missed his hair and the smell of his shampoo.

"You could have warned me," you say. Fingers trail along his neck, beard tickling your palm and fingers. Traces of his last undercover mission are almost gone - shaven head and this sort of big goatee. It wasn’t your favorite look on him ; and now he’s gone back to this softer version of himself.

"Yeah, well, that’s kinda hard when you disappear undercover for a month, right?"

He does have a point. He holds your gaze for a moment, a slight crease between his brows, and you exhale softly, watching as he looks down to your bare stomach, bloody shirt discarded on the cold floor.

"I'm sorry. You know how it works."

"Yeah, I do."

A small pause, where you both get closer, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging, scratching.

"Maybe you can make it up to me."

"I have bits of brain in my hair." Chris' lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, along your neck, your collarbones. Protests dying away and replaced by whimpers, already desperate for more. It has been a long month.

"Good thing we're in the bathroom, right?"

Hot breath on your skin, face nuzzling between your breasts, down your stomach, carefully avoiding your bandage as your back arches. It doesn't take long for you to find yourself pressed against a tile wall, legs wrapped around his bare body, limbs quivering - pleasure, the exhaustion of the day and the last month.

The sound of water hitting your bodies before crashing on the floor is enough to conceal your frantic heartbeats, strangled whimpers and mutters, feverish pleas. A fuck escapes your lips in the form of a low moan, Chris’ lips crashing into yours in an attempt to hold in the sound. A hungry kiss, sweet, loving, yearning.

"I've missed you - so - much." It comes out as three little gasps, matching each thrust into your body, each time your back hits the wall, each time you feel like you're finally complete. The pull in your chest, heart - it's so fierce. It almost hurts, how much you've missed him.

"Every day - " A muffled moan, fingers digging into the skin of his tense back. "I was just trying - to come back to you."

Skin prickling and tingling as droplets of water follow the curve of your tangled bodies, chills running down your spines, he buries his face into the crook of your neck as the last thrust takes all the strength that was left in your body. And as you're left quivering and panting and heaving, in this daze, there's this shared gaze that holds a thousand moments - everything it took to get here. Dodging, hitting, ducking, kicking, shooting, stabbing. Blood splattered on your face, the taste of iron in your mouth, the smell of death forever rooted in your senses. The lethal instinct that overtakes your whole body and mind when you have to fight your way home.

A throaty laugh resonates in the bathroom, traces of blood on the floor soon wiped clean, sewing kit back to the white closet right above that plant you insisted on buying specifically for his bathroom, ruined shirt thrown into a corner as if the laundry basket wasn't right next to him - you don't comment on that, relishing the feeling of a warm towel on your skin with your eyes closed and head thrown back. Different moans this time, as you get dressed painfully.

It takes a few minutes for someone to talk again, steam still fogging up the room, warmth embracing you. The mirrors are misty, and so is your mind. You roll your head from right to left, make your neck crack, stretch as far as your body lets you.

"Well," Chris drawls out lazily, visibly fighting a smirk. "I have to go back. I suppose you want to stay in my room and avoid further humiliation?"

You huff, dragging a hand across your face. "Scared I'm gonna start another extremely graphic depiction of my mission? I bet she wants to hear more about bits of scattered brain."

You wince as your hear yourself - it's gross.

"I really wish you had told me your mother was in town."

[rgr-pop]

where should i get started to figure out how to actually set up and decorate a home space?? (books, other resources?) i have no idea how to do it.

Hmmmm. I think the first step to designing any space is to live in the space without anything except for what you have and or what you absolutely need (you are moving with nearly no furniture, right? just moving out there in a car?). So then you can learn (possibly take notes if you are really serious) how you use space, what you are missing from every space, what you need the spaces to do for you, etc. (I think for the nature of your new life, you will want to consider, for example, how much you want or need your work to take space in your home.) I always recommend people do this before buying anything other than a thing to put your ass on and a second thing to put your drink on, but that’s just me! This is also a good time to reflect on what you liked or hated about what your setup was before. Some of these can be quick judgments: do you have absolutely nowhere to do kitchen prep? Are there rooms that get zero sunlight? No overhead light? Does a patch of floor need to be covered at any cost? But most of it you won’t figure out except with time, living in it, and that is why this is always a living process and not an event! (Making some assumptions about the status & condition of the place you’ll be renting, forgive me and I hope they pan out to be true for you 😬)

Take note of things that you have always wanted in your living space and whether they can be achieved in an easy way (for example, if you have always coveted yellow walls, just fucking do it, and if you absolutely cannot paint, do it with curtains and wall hangings). For me these things were things like: an in-closet shelf for shoes, dimmable lighting, bathroom drawers, a central decorative laundry hamper, extremely organized christmas storage, etc. Some of that has not been fulfilled but identifying how much it meant to me made the process clearer. Like, don’t invest yourself in a fantasy for no reason, but some ummm basic journaling can help you figure out what the roots of your desires or feelings of home inadequacy if you have them lol might be, and if the answer is “I just want a pink couch” then like…do it? Literally yolo.

The questions:

1. What are the tasks and activities you do in your home vs. wish to do in your home, and can you do them with what you have? Can you do them optimally? (Working [writing, grading, etc.], entertaining, cooking, BAKING, crafts and hobbies, tv watching, gardening, access to the windows for the cats, litter) (Wait: are you living alone?)

2. Where do things go? (Books, kitchen items, yarn, toiletries, clothes, laundry.) Is this system making it easier to locate your things when you need them, use them, and hide them when you’re not using them?

During this time you can figure out where the best places in your area are to get furnishings (one always has to get acquainted with a new thrift market)! (Look for habitat for humanity restores and university surplus.*) *Design tip: do your whole home in former university library furniture

Don’t read any bullshit that tells you rules about how to decorate or live until you know how you actually use your space and what you want! You will only get SOLD [things and ideologies], misled, shamed, lied to by Dwell… after that you deal with the nebulous problem of “inspiration” and “figuring out what you actually like aesthetically.” 

So the other part of that is looking at what you have actually brought with you and, well, you’ve surely already marikonned, right. But look at the decorating and furnishing items (as well as practical items ofc), live with them, and ask whether they are working for you or need eventual replacement (not buying a bunch of furniture you don’t need immediately is a good way to save money for idk replacing your cutting board, quilts and rugs). For decorative items or potentially decorative items (maybe art objects or ephemera that are special to you that you could frame and thus turn into “art,” for example), this is a time where you can let them tell you the aesthetic direction of your home! For example in my personal life, basically the whole visual story of my bedroom was gradually directed by two enameled salmon pieces (a lamp and a cigarette stand) that I’ve had for so long that they aren’t even my “style” per se, but I love them, and so I let them determine the way!

For you in particular I would suggest an aesthetic inspo quest that involves not looking at instagram and internet design sites (”pinterest,” as they say) but old magazines and primary sources, esp re: “lifestyle.” (A lot of the 70s high tech kind of stuff I look at now makes me really try to want to “decorate” my space in a way that would have been called “lifestyle” back then, even if for me it just means “what if I got table surfaces I can move around in different ways to accommodate my multiple craft hobbies,” etc.) Secondarily I recommend thrift shopping and, when finances allow, just buying the thing that moves you and figuring it out later. (I recommend this technique to everyone who has the liquid $20-100, it is the more utopian version of “settling for the ikea coffee table.”)

Figure out ASAP whether you can paint, etc. and whether you’d want to. As far as books? I mean I don’t really recommend any in particular because, again, Ideology. That’s why I like looking at older ones, because they expose the historical situatedness of interiors ideology!!

So short answer

1. A big move is an emotionally vulnerable time, do not let Apartment Therapy prey on that. Don’t read anything! Instead, look at old books and magazines and browse craigslist

2. Literally journal

3. Figure out your budget 

4. IKEA should be a last resort for absolutely anything except for those things you put plastic bags in, drawer organizers, recycling bins and maybe rugs (unfortunately rugs are just expensive everywhere but ikea). Unless you have 200 bottles of nail polish in which case the helmer is still the best option on the market. Don’t go to IKEA.

Not really what you were asking, lol :). Now once you tell me details about your space and collect notes on your vision, I can tell you sources that I trust to brainwash you the cool way and not the apartment therapy way (lbr am not above apartment therapy and have visited them a lot every time I moved into a new place) (it will make you feel bad about yourself)

[jmsa1287]

‘Now Apocalypse,' on Starz, is a Candy Color Queer Noir

i got to write about Greg Araki’s new TV show “Now Apocalypse” 

There's a lot going on in "Now Apocalypse," the new series from openly gay filmmaker Gregg Araki ("Mysterious Skin," "Kaboom") debuting Sunday on Starz. It's one-part modern millennial satire and one-part Los Angeles noir that's mixed with a conspiracy thriller and a raunchy 80s comedy. It's all rolled in a tight joint doused in queer expression. It's a lot to take in.

"Now Apocalypse," where Steven Soderbergh serves as an executive producer, is singular in that only Araki could have been the person behind this bright, sex-driven romp. That is a feat, considering the sprawling TV landscape that offers thousands of options. Despite its delightful eccentricities, the show is more an admirable effort than a successful one, though you can't help root for it. Much like stoner L.A. noir "Under the Silver Lake," a film that has been delayed a few times over the last year starring Andrew Garfield and directed by "It Follows" helmer David Robert Mitchell (it's scheduled to hit theaters April 19), "Now Apocalypse" is set in the City of Angels and follows a group of incredibly horny young adults.

It mostly focuses on Ulysses (Avan Jogia), who, like the protagonist in "Under the Silver Lake," is an aimless pothead, unsure of his next move in life and not in a rush to get there. Self-describing as queer, Ulysses moved to L.A. from the Midwest with his straight best friend, super friendly hunk Ford (Beau Mirchoff). The pair live together and while Ulysses spends his time working odd jobs, getting laid with guys he met off Grindr and smoking weed, the airhead Ford is an aspiring screenwriter, who is dating the sultry Severine (Roxane Mesquida), a French scientist with a super top-secret job. There's also Carly (Kelli Berglund), Ulysses close friend, who is a struggling actress and does cam work to make rent.

There's not really a tangible plot to "Now Apocalypse." Threads orbit around Ulysses's world, chief among them the visions he's been having. He's unsure if he's smoking too much or actually experiencing uncanny moments but Ulysses is pretty confident lizard people are taking over the planet and he starts to get sucked into the teachings of a crockpot alien conspiracy theorist played by Henry Rollins. He thinks these freaky signs are connected to something larger... or it could just be too much weed.

Another story baked into Ulysses journey is a mystery man he met on a dating app who keeps ditching him. Gabriel ("Teen Wolf" star Tyler Posey) and Ulysses have a strong connection after meeting (and hooking up) one time but there's something strange going on with him — is the universe trying to tell Ulysses something or is it all in his head? Ulysses also stands by Ford's side when a shady movie producer takes notice of him and claims his script is aces (Ulysses has read the script and knows that's bull). He also lends a shoulder to Ford when Severine wants to open up their relationship, and he's there for Carly when she needs work/relationship advice. Everyone on the show is great but "Now Apocalypse" doesn't really take off until the fifth episode when the main characters surrounding Ulysses (Ford, Carly and Severine) are finally put together in the same room.

Like "Pose," "Now Apocalypse" pops on screen because it's not afraid of color. Fire engine reds, sun yellows and sky blues are electric and if you happen to be channel surfing (yes, a thing we rarely do anymore) there's a good chance the brightness among the saturated prestige TV palette (dark blues, washed out greys) will grab you — or it may be the sheer amount of nudity. Araki has never been afraid of sex in his films and that's no different on the small screen — there's a lot of nudity and graphic sex in "Now Apocalypse." But it's never used in a gross way; characters always have a reason for being naked and its played relatively natural. It's a free-loving and spiritual series, unafraid of what it is and what it wants to say, that has its freak flag raised high.

"Now Apocalypse" is not for everyone (if a scene involving a urinating fetish doesn't scare you away, stick around) but it fits into the genre/queer-ish focused fare Starz has turned out over the last few years ("The Girlfriend Experience," "Outlander," "Vida," "American Gods"). It aims for a lot and sometimes can only pull off a few of the themes it wants to explore. The show's tone can be confusing and sometimes the big haunting mystery hanging over Ulysses's head feels too goofy to be creepy or be an actual threat to the world, offsetting the high stakes presented in the show.

Nevertheless, Araki's series falls into a somewhat new TV trend, the half-hour series (think "Russian Doll" and "Homecoming"). Maybe a few years ago the show would have been a full 60 minutes but in 2019 it's smartly stripped back to a lean 30. "Now Apocalypse" is a mixed bag but it's easy to digest — like an edible brownie that may be a little too strong for your taste.

[vihilum]

“We should sleep here tonight.” Full lockdown. No hesitation in cyan hues as they gazed towards the helmer of the project, this deep dive into darkness had been long sought after. He wanted this. River needed this. He needed this to work. To prove to himself he could take strides on his own. Because he wasn’t so sure he could yet, and he found that notion paralytic, and before he could succumb to it, and admit to his sister how confined he felt within himself, he found an alternate route.

Forge his exit.

He was digging for bits of himself that hadn’t taken shape yet. The full realization of his gifts, how to sharpen them, hone into them, the mechanisms were still lost on River. He didn’t know how it worked. He operated off luck, instinct, and a feeling.

Never guarantees.

He wouldn’t tell himself he wasn’t ready.

He hand-selected his lies. He hadn’t lied about knowing - no, just the level of expertise might have been a stretch. The unknown remained out of reach in new spaces.

That’s why he pressed to linger - home was where he heard the most votes. The longer he stayed, the clearer they became. They would join him, and he was unafraid.

Come, come. River’s presence only ever beckoned them closer. I’m waiting for you.

He had no intentions to sleep in spite of the duffel bag. There was caffeine in his canteen and he took slow sips, knee shaking as he reclined in the chair. It squeaked underneath him. He would take first watch, the only watch. He wouldn’t dare rouse the others.

Atticus was nearest to him, the rest of the crew was scattered around. Drifting off in slumber, some fell asleep as they murmured to one another nervously. Nobody had ever volunteered to sleep in a haunted house before.

@sainterror said, “Tell me something, and be honest.”

Eyes lower. Atticus’ head is propped up. He didn’t even look tired.Most people didn’t like to sleep amongst the dead. River found it was the most sound rest he had, surrounded by the noise, instead of sifting through the silence for their pitch.

“I’m looking for them,” River’s own voice is a whisper, and he’s crouched, “listening for them,” this is their secret, his hunt, his ace, “all I need is one,” he exhales, winter’s breath on his tongue, “that’s all it takes. Just one.”

Every string is in place. He can listen for the chord, their music. The symphony tunes itself at night. That’s when it’s most alive.

“Their pulse isn’t much different from ours,” it’s a wish, it’s a manifestation, “they mirror the living,” a choir out of practice, a voice was always out of place, “sometimes, it’s like they’re trying too hard, to pretend,” and he could feel it, “strange, isn’t it?”

[dahlusion-blog]

My short fiction, “SOMETHING TO BELIEVE”

[livblogsworld]

ACADEMY AWARDS 2022 NOMINATIONS- AN ANALYSIS

The nominations for the 94th academy award were announced on February 8th, 2022 via a Livestream, hosted by Trace Ellis Ross and Leslie Jordan. Among the 23 categories Netflix "The power of the dog" dominated the academy awards, leading with 12 nominations. Apart from this, there were various other first-time nominees and a few unexpected omissions. Here's our takeaway in this year's nominations that unveiled some record-breaking statistics, making Oscars a delightful treat as usual.

Jane Champion's "The power of the dog" was garnered with the most love, emerging as the undoubted frontrunner in the Oscars ballot. From best picture to best-adapted screenplay, original score, cinematography, and production design, it also grabs 4 nominations in the acting sphere after the 2013 American Hustle. Champion emerges as the first woman to earn the best director nomination twice, her first being 1993 Piano. She truly deserves the Oscar for crafting such a beautiful movie with implicit details and innuendo. Meanwhile, both Kodi Smit-McPhee and surprisingly Jesse Plemons from this movie grabbed a nomination in the same role as the supporting actors, and Kodi deserves the oscar for his nuanced and textured performance.

Close to the competition was Denis Villeneuve’s "Dune", bagging 10 nominations including best-adapted screenplay and cinematography. However, it surprisingly got snubbed in the best director nomination, where Ryusuke Hamaguchi grabbed a place for directing the Japanese film "Drive my car". The rest of the best picture list features movies like "West side story", "CODA", "Nightmare alley", "Licorice Pizza", "Belfast", "Don't look up", and "King Richard".

With the exemption of "Spiderman: no way home" from the best picture nod, Marvel fans were left with utter disappointment. This box-office success ended up getting just a visual effects nomination.

"West side story" helmer Steven Spielberg recreated this ravishing musical, earning a spot for the best picture and best director. With this, Spielberg became the third filmmaker to earn 8 nominations in different decades altogether, after Martin Scorsese and Billy Wilder.

Newly streaming Apple TV+ marked history by scoring 6 Oscar nominations, including "CODA" for best picture, only in the second year of existence.

Meanwhile, "Being the Ricardo’s” Javier Bardem and “Parallel Mother’s” Penelope Cruz became the sixth married couple to snag the Academy awards. Also, romantic partners Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Plemons got concurrent nominations for their roles in "The power of the dog".

Among the other surprising nominations was J.K. Simmons for "Being the Ricardos" and Jessie Buckley for "The Lost Daughter". Meanwhile, Kristen Stewart bagged her first academy award nomination for the movie "Spencer".

"Belfast" helmer Kenneth Branagh makes history by becoming the first person to receive 7 nominations in 7 different categories, surpassing George Clooney. This period drama won him nominations for best picture producer, original screenwriter, and director.

The winners for the 94th Academy awards will be announced on March 27 at 8 pm Eastern on ABC. Craig Erwich, ABC Entertainment, and Hulu Originals chief, will be hosting the ceremony.

[healthcare-market]

Thawing System Market Size, Share, Trend and Industry Analysis Report

Thawing systems find application in defrosting biological samples in biobanks, diagnostic centers, and biotechnology and pharmaceutical companies. Thawing systems typically consist of thaw bags and containers for process development. Those are highly useful for research and development processes since they do away with the need for large amount of sample.

General Electric Company, Sartorius Aktiengesellschaft, Helmer, Inc., Cardinal Health, Inc., Cytotherm Lp, Barkey GmbH & Co. KG, and BioCision, LLC. Are to name a few of the key companies operating in the global thawing systems market.

A report on the market by Transparency Market Research finds that it would rise at a robust 10% CAGR between 2017 and 2026. Rising at this pace, the global thawing systems market would likely reach a valuation of US$350 mn by the end of 2026.

Request a PDF Brochure - https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=B&rep_id=36629

Based on the type of product, the low cost manual thawing systems are seeing significantly high demand in the global thawing system market. This demand is expected to remain intact over the course of the forecast duration. From a geographical standpoint, North America at present holds a dominant position in the global thawing systems market. It is mainly powered by the U.S. where a large number of pharmaceutical and biotechnology companies are seen pouring money into drug research and development. Helpful government policies has also led to creation of biobanks to ensure proper storage and supply of blood in hospitals and healthcare centers in the U.S. This has also filliped the thawing system market in the region. Our report projects North America’s thawing system market to rise at a CAGR of 11.9% during the forecast period.

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Biopharmaceutical Industry Mainly Fuels Thawing System Market

Majorly fuelling the global thawing system market is their rising usage in the biopharmaceutical industry. The lead analyst of our report, further elaborates, “Biopharmaceutical companies that are into manufacture of drugs need thawing systems for transporting and storing pharmaceutical products. Further, sterile designs and short process cycles have led to high uptake of thawing systems in end-use industries. Several bio-repositories worldwide are expending large amounts in increasing their storage capacities. All the aforementioned are seen providing a major boost to the global thawing system market.” Thawed cells are also finding application in treating chronic health issues such as cancer and diabetes.

Request a Sample of Thawing System Market: https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=S&rep_id=36629

Slow Uptake of Thawing System by Small and Medium Vendors Slows Growth

Nevertheless, the global thawing system market is experiencing certain challenges which it needs to overcome in order to grow. One of those is the high cost of automation which makes it particularly difficult for small and medium vendors to adopt those.

Notwithstanding such temporary setbacks, the global thawing system market would rise in the near term because of the emergence and uptake of automated thawing systems, particularly in research institutes and biopharmaceutical companies due to their advanced applications and efficacy. Rising occurrence of blood related diseases is also expected to have a positive impact on the market.

Enquiry before Buying Thawing System Market Report - https://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=EB&rep_id=36629

This review is based on the findings of a TMR report, titled, “Thawing System Market (Product Type - Manual, and Automated; End User - Blood Banks & Transfusion Centers, Hospitals & Diagnostic Centers, Academic and Research Institutes, Biotechnology & Pharmaceutical Industries; End-Users; Sample Type - Blood, Embryo & Ovum, and Semen) - Global Industry Analysis, Size, Share, Growth, Trends, and Forecast 2017–2026.”

More Trending Reports by Transparency Market Research:

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https://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/rising-number-of-osteoporosis-cases-boosts-demand-avenues-in-viscosupplementation-market-says-transparency-market-research-301312591.html

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[msivoryaquino]

Aah the bat’s out of the bag✨🦇 THANK YOU for the outpouring of love from dear friends & beloved fans of #Batgirl and her #bff #AlysiaYeoh ♥️ been busy at work with the rest of the Batgirl fam to bring you a story that’s both heartwarming & exciting including the return of legendary @michaelkeatondouglas as #Batman 🖤 if I’m not able to readily reply to your well wishes, pls know that my heart is expanding by the second from your words of love & my appreciation is ever-growing🙏 Am beyond thrilled to be working with this team led by my gurl! @lesliegrace & our brilliant helmers @adilelarbi & @fallahbilall ✌️I wish I could name everyone.. soo many other amazing people part of this endeavor, biggest hugss to everyone who’s been a part of my Alysia journey you know who you are & I adore you❣️ When you get a chance to watch our lil film coming out this year, know that it truly is a labor of love that we’re suuuper excited to share with you. Much love to Gail Simone @comixgail for imagining Alysia into being, am ecstatic to bring her to cinematic life. And kudos to #DC #WarnerBrothers @hbomax for bringing onto the screens of the #DCuniverse a depiction of #trans folks that’s reflective of our existence in the world (or part of it at least!) and for recognizing how much fun we’re all gonna have with Alysia in the house🙌 https://www.instagram.com/p/CZMkCGotK1V/?utm_medium=tumblr

[whileiamdying]

Mideast/North African Films Jostle for Oscar Shortlist Attention

By Alissa Simon

Although this year’s Middle Eastern/North African Oscar submissions have yet to generate a strong buzz, there are titles among the 10 films that could be contenders for the international feature short list.

Chief among them is “Sun Children” from veteran Iranian helmer Majid Majidi, whose 1997 “Children of Heaven” landed a foreign-language film nomination. This gripping drama about exploited urban street kids is cast with charismatic, non-pro performers and earned an acting award at the Venice fest for its resilient young protagonist. Strand Films will release.

A possible dark horse is “Broken Keys,” the feature debut of Lebanese multi-hyphenate Jimmy Keyrouz. It marks an expansion of his 2016 Student Academy Award-winner “Nocturne in Black” about a musician in a Syrian town controlled by ISIS. Sporting the Cannes Label, this tense drama, with a score by Keyrouz’s famous compatriot Gabriel Yared, shares the combination of real-life crisis and sweeping emotion that characterizes some past nominees.

If sundry festival awards could make an Oscar winner, then Sudan’s visually assured drama “You Will Die at 20” and Israel’s poignant, mother-daughter study “Asia” would have the inside track. The former, the feature debut of Amjad Abu Alala, premiered at the 2019 Venice fest where it bagged the prestigious Lion of the Future kudo. Set in an isolated village where superstition constrains the population, it follows the difficult coming of age of a young man who received a disturbing prophecy at birth.

“Asia,” from debuting helmer Ruthy Pribar, was a multiple winner at the Jerusalem and Tribeca festivals.

It centers on an attractive Russian émigré nurse and single mother, and her relationship with her ailing teen daughter, played by Emmy nominee Shira Haas (“Unorthodox”). Menemsha Films is releasing this quiet, emotionally acute drama.

Also boasting several festival awards are two films about the cruel absurdity of life in the Palestinian territories. Simple but enraging, the Jordanian entry “200 Meters” marks the feature debut of Palestine-born Ameen Nayfeh. The title signifies the distance between the home of the protagonist, Mustafa, in the Occupied Territories, and the dwelling of his wife and children in Israel, behind the border wall. Unlike the rest of his nuclear family, Mustafa is not an Israeli citizen, and requires a work permit in order to cross the border. When his permit expires and an emergency requires his presence in Israel, he is forced to deal with people smugglers.

In the droll Palestinian entry “Gaza Mon Amour,” the sophomore feature of twin brothers Arab and Tarzan Nasser (“Dégradé”), the minimalist action unfolds against a backdrop of the many limitations governing life in Gaza.

The performances of top Palestinian stars Salim Daw as a grumpy bachelor and Hiam Abbas (“Succession”) as a pious widow elevate the piece.

In contrast, a more hopeful look at life and love comes from the compelling Egyptian entry “When We’re Born,” a tender, humanist drama from indie helmer Tamer Ezzat that makes innovative use of music. Three stories of when everyday life and ambitions conflict, forcing hard choices, find counterpoint and connection in a musical narration composed by Amir Eid, lead singer-songwriter of the popular Egyptian band the Cairokees. The lanky Eid also makes a convincing acting debut as the sensitive protagonist of one of the episodes.

Tunisia’s provocative entry, “The Man Who Sold His Skin,” from writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania (“Beauty and the Dogs”), combines the humanitarian crisis in Syria with the vagaries of the international art market to ask some uncomfortable questions about the price of a human life. “Skin’s” plot involves a displaced Syrian who lets a cryptic art world guru tattoo his back with a Schengen visa, then finds it easier to travel to Europe as an artwork than as a refugee. This ambitious international co-production, which some may find a tad too long and a tad too far-fetched, nevertheless confirms Ben Hania as a talent to watch.

Also signaling important new director-writer talents are Morocco’s “The Unknown Saint” from Alaa Eddine Aljem and Saudi Arabia’s “Scales” from Shahad Ameen, which is set for a Variance Films release. “Saint” is an entertaining, absurdist fable about spirituality and greed. It follows a thief who buries a bag of loot near a derelict desert village, disguising the spot as a grave. Years later, when he returns to retrieve his booty, he is astonished and frustrated to find that a mausoleum honoring an “unknown saint” credited with performing healing miracles now covers the site.

“Scales” is set in an isolated village where families must sacrifice a daughter to monstrous sea maidens and draws an elemental power from Arabic folklore using imposing black-and-white visuals. Distaff helmer Ameen believes that the film acts as a catalyst for wider conversations about gender roles, beliefs and feminism in the Arab world. It represents the desert kingdom’s fourth Oscar submission and third by a female director.

[yarningelephant]

Today I am hanging out in the sunshine knitting during a spa day… 😍 . Travelled to AZ to hang out with family and be in the valley of the sun which I desperately needed. My sweet Sister-In-Law got the girls a spa day and we are soaking it in today. Part of it for me is knitting uninterrupted which I need since I am on one of five scarves for Christmas gifts 🤪So scrambling a little. . Yarn: Falling Leaves and Spring Green by @islandwools Pattern: Minecraft Double Knit Scarf by Paige Helmer on @hi.ravelry Project bag: Plague Dr. By @fatesthread Wrap/Cover: custom made for me wrap made by @prettypaisleywovens based on a picture of my columbine flowers. * * * * #knit #knitting #knittingaddict #knitgeek #knittersofinstagram #knittersofwhidbey #sun #sunshine #valleyofthesun #spa #spaday #minecraft #doubleknit #pool #yarn #yarnaddict #yarningelephant (at Scottsdale, Arizona) https://www.instagram.com/p/CW3uBmkPJgL/?utm_medium=tumblr

[eleventhewise]

where is my mind? // chapter 1

summary: mike wheeler’s best friend commits suicide after the ninth grade. when he enters high school, he meets will and eleven, who teach him about love, loss, and breaking away. perks of being a wallflower au.

word count: 2050

trigger warning for alcohol, suicide, abuse, etc.

also on ao3

a/n: just a reminder that until the late 90s (this takes place in 89-90’), high school was only 10th, 11th, and 12th grade, meaning the kids are in their first year of high school.

mike had woken up that morning with a headache from the sound of his mother banging on his door yelling about how he was going to be late for school. he cringed at the thought of it. school, he thought to himself. everything about school now just made him feel sick to his stomach. It made him think about henry, how he was the only part of school that was good, and how much he missed him. but shit happens, he thought to himself yet again, before getting out of bed and putting on the first clean sweater he could find.

on the way to school, nancy lectured mike about how he was only to go in the freshmen halls and nowhere else, otherwise he’d get his ass kicked. the lecturing only made mike’s head feel worse, and he wanted to tell nancy to stop but knew she would get ticked off and just yell at mike more. mike thought about the idea of walking into the new school, and how hopefully he would make friends as easily as he connected with henry. he liked to think that maybe he would stop thinking about him and maybe not be as sad as he had been all summer. he tried to think about meeting new people, or not having to feel so lonely that he would have to sit with nancy at lunch.

nancy stopped talking when they pulled into the school parking lot, where mike stepped out and looked around; there were kids of all shapes and sizes from all different cliques and backgrounds surrounding the school. this made mike gulp in fear. the number of people in the surrounding area made him even more anxious than he already was.

mike looked down at the schedule he clutched in his hands. first period: art. room 39, it read. he roamed around the school trying to find it before finally reaching the class. he stepped into the room to find that it was a class of around twenty-something kids before taking a seat. next to him was a boy with light brown hair and big brown eyes. he wore a dark green sweatshirt and his backpack was filled with paintbrushes and colored pencils. mike looked at his bag for a few moments until a short woman with curly blonde hair and a kind face walked in. “hello, all! my name is ms. helmer and i’m going to be teaching freshman art this year,” she greeted. for the entire period, mr. helmer talked to the class about what they would be doing in class this school year.

mike listened to her talk, even though he started to get bored after the first fifteen minutes. he looked over to the boy sitting next to him, only to see he was drawing a very detailed picture of a girl on the sheet of paper in front of him. mike widened his eyes in disbelief as he watched the boy detail the drawing even more. “that’s really good,” mike whispered. the other boy looked up at mike and smiled. “thanks, it’s kept me from falling asleep all period,” he said. mike chuckled, as did the boy. “i’m will by the way,” he said. “mike.” The bell rang.

as everyone got up and left the class, mike got a strange sense of nostalgia from the conversation he had with will. it reminded him of when he met henry, and how odd it felt. mike wondered if he and will would sit next to him tomorrow or the next day. he wondered if he and will would maybe even become friends, just like how he and henry had been. mike brushed off the thought and continued walking.

the rest of the day played out not as bad as mike had pictured. when he went to lunch he looked around and saw will sitting with a girl who looked similar to the one he was drawing earlier in class. she had curly hair that went to right above her elbows and big brown eyes similar to will’s. she was wearing a baggy striped sweatshirt and looked as if she couldn’t stop laughing at something will had said. pretty, he thought. will saw mike and smiled, making a gesture with his hands for him to come sit with them. mike, feeling a slight rush of excitement, walked over with his stuff and sat down. “hi mike!” will said sounding much more enthusiastically than he had sounded earlier that morning. “hey will,” mike said more awkwardly than usual. mike looked over towards the girl and smiled; she smiled back. “oh mike, this is eleven. el, this is mike. He’s in my art class,” will introduced to the girl sitting next to him. she smiled even bigger towards mike, making him blush. “it’s nice to meet you mike.” eleven said. “you too,” mike said as he unpacked the contents of the brown paper bag containing his lunch.

will and eleven continued with their conversation while mike listened. when they stopped talking for a moment, Mike said, “you both seem really happy together, how long have you been dating?” will and eleven laughed, making mike’s face turn fire hydrant red. “will’s my stepbrother.” eleven said once she had finally caught her breath. “when we were eight, his mom left his asshole dad and married my nice dad,” eleven said matter of factly. “yeah as if hopper’s any better,” will giggled. eleven elbowed him, making the three of them laugh.

“so are you guys new to hawkins? i don’t think I’ve seen either of you around and hawkins is fairly small,” mike trailed off. “nope, we just moved here from bloomington.” will said after taking a bite out of his sandwich. “tell us though, what’s good around here?” eleven asked. mike blushed; god this eleven girl is cute, he thought. “well, there’s this place called brewster’s downtown. it’s a 24 hour diner and it’s not all that bad.” mike said. “well, we’ll have to go there then.” eleven said, winking at mike. mike turned even more red than before. “jesus, eleven! stop flirting with the kid!” will said half-jokingly as eleven cackled. mike laughed along with them. “hey, just wondering, why do you go by the name eleven?” mike asked, curiosity filling his mind. “well,” she began, “my birthday is the eleventh day of the eleventh month. when i told will that he thought it was cool, and eventually he started calling me eleven. my dad and joyce don’t call me eleven but sometimes i wish they did, i hate my real name,” she rambled, yet she talked about it like it was her greatest achievement. mike assumed that joyce was eleven’s stepmom, or really will’s mom, considering the previous events.

before he got another word out, the bell rang ending their lunch period. will and eleven got up from the table and so did mike. “i guess i’ll see you in art tomorrow?” will asked. mike nodded his head and looked at eleven. “hey maybe we might have a class together.” he said sounding more awkward than he had throughout the previous forty-five minutes. eleven smiled and nodded; “yeah, i hope we do,” she said. “hey loser, are you done flirting?” will yelled jokingly, beginning to walk away. eleven rolled her eyes, before running off and waving goodbye. mike smiled as she walked off with will.

2:31 mike’s watch read. forty-four minutes until he got to go home, he thought. he was in his last class of the day, english. english was one of his favorite subjects, other than science and now art thanks to will. mike sat patiently while waiting for the class to start. he listened to other students in the class have conversations with their friends, but he mainly thought about eleven. she’s so pretty, he thought.

his thoughts were cut off when a man walked in the class. he stood up at the front of the classroom and quieted down the students by lowering his hands. “i’m mr. harding, i’ll be your english teacher for the rest of the school year.” he said. me. harding was very tall and very thin, but not as thin as will. he was wearing a suit and he had thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. “this year we’ll be reading five books,” mr. harding began, “we’ll be reading the great gatsby, by f. scott fitzgerald.” he said somewhat dramatically. he continued, “we will be reading the grapes of wrath, by john steinbeck.” mike perked up; john steinbeck was one of his favorite authors, if not his most favorite. “we’ll read a more coming of age story, their eyes were watching god by zora neale hurston.” mike remembered nancy coming home everyday for months going on about how great that book was; he smiled at the memory. “we’ll be reading a story that, to me,” he chuckled to himself, “symbolizes irony, 1984 by george orwell,” he said, “and lastly, we’ll finish off our school year by reading a shakespearian classic, hamlet.” he finished. the class had probably lost their entire interest by the time he started speaking, but mike was all ears, wanting to know anything and everything about what they would be doing in his class for the rest of the year.

mr. harding continued his lecture about the books they’d be reading up until the bell rang. mike was almost out of the door before mr. harding stopped him. “i could tell you were the only one in the room interested.” he said. mike’s face began to turn slightly red (when was it not). “i love books, sir.” he responded. mr. harding raised his eyebrows, “i can see that. what if i gave you a book recommendation each month?” the man offered. mike smiled a little bit. “i’d love that, sir.”

later that night at dinner, mike sat with his family eating quietly while his parents talked, before turning the conversation to mike and his sisters. “so how was your first day back?” karen asked to whoever wanted to describe their day first. “it was good,” nancy spoke up. “really? what happened.” ted asked trying to sound excited but being more focused on his dinner. “well, i met this boy named steve harrington. he’s really nice and he’s my lab partner for this year. oh, and he also asked me if we could hang out this weekend?” she babbled on. nancy was a senior in high school and loved any attention she got from boys, especially if they were guys like steve harrington, who was, to mike at least, a ‘grade a asshole’.

“you can go to his house as long as there’s no fooling around,” ted said sounding unamused and not looking up. nancy rolled her eyes, before looking over at mike. “so how was your first day of high school?” she asked in a slightly mocking tone. he gave nancy a deadpanned look before speaking up. “it was good. my english teacher’s really cool and his class seems like it’ll be fun.” mike explained. “what a nerd,” nancy mumbled under her breath. “hey! we are NOT tolerating this at the dinner table!” karen scolded. holly looked somewhat frightened and eventually started crying at the sound of her mother yelling, making karen take her out of her high-chair and leaving. the rest of the dinner was somewhat awkward, but it wasn’t unusual. eventually, they went their separate ways to go to bed, mike and nancy to their rooms and ted to his la-z-boy.

mike went to bed that night feeling happy. He had made two good friends, one of which being a very pretty girl that mike may or may not have developed a crush on, and another being a boy who was artistically gifted and seemed to be one of the better boys in hawkins high school. he had met a man who seemed to be great at teaching and mike was excited to have him as a teacher the rest of the school year, and he couldn’t wait for the books that mr. harding would tell him to read, knowing they would all be fantastic.

mike realized that he hadn’t been this happy since the day he met henry.