#the glorious Guinness girls

[deanmarywinchester]

previous years: 2022, 2021 / list of worst sf/f/horror

the bangers were BANGING this year, I kept mentally readjusting my top 5 list every time I read something good so the honorable mentions are extremely honorable this year. I hope you read anything that sounds good from this list and tell me about it!

top 5:

chain gang all stars by nana kwame adjei-brenyah: when I say that this book is like the hunger games for adults, I’m not making a glib comparison between two books about fighting to the death, I’m saying that I haven’t felt so intensely about a book since I stayed up late to tear through the hunger games and sob about it when I was thirteen. this book is satire as real and devastating as I’ve ever read, with action scenes that feel like they’re being dripped directly into my hindbrain and a unique and believable love story. put it on hold at your library literally RIGHT now.

the actual star by monica byrne: about a post-climate catastrophe utopian society built around a religion started by a teenage girl in 2012 based on mayan traditions, and also about the teenage girl, and also about the maya. this book made me crazy because the future society felt real enough to touch, with its radical openness and collectivity solving problems that exist today but causing new ones that are totally novel and meaty and interesting to dig into. read it if you’re interested in different ways of being.

the spear cuts through water by simon jiménez: really, REALLY good, fresh, original epic fantasy. jimenez picks a few perspectives to stick to but hops fluidly into bystanders’ brains to give you their perspectives, so even background characters feel fleshed-out and no one’s pain is dismissed as a side effect of heroic battles or whatever. highly recommended if you like framing narratives and stories about stories, and like epic fantasy but wish it wasn’t mostly about finding acceptable enemies to slaughter with cool swords

the dispossessed by ursula k. le guin: I love how much this book is about hope as clear-eyed commitment to the boring and difficult work of a brighter and necessary future. sometimes the work of the glorious anarcho-communist revolution is leaving your university post and romantic partner for months at a time to dig irrigation ditches so nobody starves when there’s a drought. read this book for diplomatic conniving, a clash of values between a capitalist planet and its dissident moon, and hope.

imperial radch trilogy and its spinoffs by ann leckie: what if you were built to be a weapon of the empire, a serene sentient battleship with thousands of human bodies all containing your consciousness, and you lost all bodies but one and had to figure out how to be a person, singular and alone? what if you were a 19th century british military officer and you slept for a thousand years into the decline of the empire? what if you were grown in a vat to be a facsimile of human and then told off for eating all your siblings even though eating them was SO interesting? what then. leckie’s prose is incisive and funny, her unreliable narrators are wonderful, and her stories are intimate even though the backdrops are insanely huge. 👍.

honorable mentions:

house of leaves by mark z. danielewski: guys? anyone hearda this one? anyway. Something Is Wrong With This House horror with themes of storytelling and grief. recommending that you slam this book as fast as possible like I did so you can hold all its layers in your head at once.

the lathe of heaven by ursula k le guin: i thought I didn’t like ursula k le guin, and then I read this book, went OH and immediately devoured the hainish cycle. im so sorry miss ursula. this book about a hapless pacific northwesterner whose therapist is making him dream different realities into being is so sharp and sly and funny. themes of choices, ends and means.

he who drowned the world by shelley parker-chan: I liked the prequel to this addition to the radiant emperor duology. I LOVED this book. parker-chan has invented new and exciting modes of fucked-up codependency and im obsessed. historical light-fantasy with themes of ideals vs what it takes to reach them, gender, and regret.

babel by r. f. kuang: found the didacticism of this book annoying, but i really loved the concept of this novel and the way it slowly ratchets up the stakes. this novel is for people who want to smash the fun of the magic school genre against the reality of universities’ complicity in the imperial machine.

piranesi by susannah clarke: im late to this book but it’s such a weird little gem. peaceful yet unsettling. a man takes care of an endless house with an ocean inside it until he realizes the house is stealing his memories. themes of memory and devotion.

hell follows with us by andrew joseph white: I can only read YA these days if it’s a reread or if it’s genuinely good and really really strange. this is that. weird gory fantasy about a trans teen who escapes his militarized post-apocalyptic christian cult and finds himself turning into something Different. my only gripe is that he uses 2023-perfect language to describe transness and I think he should be inventing genders weve never even thought of. such is YA.

some desperate glory by emily tesch: a rolickin’ good space opera time with terrible women <3. a thriller about how the golden child of her isolated human-supremacist space station cult deprograms and the consequences of it. this feels like a grown-up SPOP until the theoretical physics gets involved. big fan

the library of mount char by scott hawkins: this book is harrow the ninth in suburbia until it becomes a more macabre version of the absurdity of the gomens apocalypse. God raises his children, sometimes brutally, to hone their powers in a neighborhood that mysteriously keeps out outsiders. came for the dysfunctional mess of the god-children and now I can never look at a grill the same way

runners up:

bunny by mona awad: books that make you WISH you were in mona awad’s MFA program where she must have been having a terrible time. the weird one out in an MFA program accepts overtures into the unbearable rich-girls’ clique to find out what they’re Up To. themes of aimlessness and the intersection of class with the art world

camp damascus by chuck tingle: have you ever wished that you were simply too autistic to be successfully demonically brainwashed into not having gay thoughts? horror-flavored thriller that was just fun

light from uncommon stars by ryka aoki: this author put a bunch of genres in a blender and came up with something fun and surprisingly cozy. an immortal woman must sell violinists’ souls to the devil in exchange for their fame, or he’ll drag her to damnation instead. there might be aliens and coffeeshop romance involved. definitely a blender.

the fragile threads of power by v. e. schwab: if you haven’t read a darker shade of magic and you like tightly paced high fantasy and historical fantasy elements, political intrigue, and pirates, read that first. if you have, there’s more now! lila bard are you free on thursday when I am free

the library of the dead & our lady of mysterious ailments by t. l. huchu: a teenage girl provides for her family in soft-apocalypse magic edinburgh with a job carrying messages from ghosts to their living relatives. an ongoing mystery series about the intrigues she uncovers among the dead.

severance by ling ma: this books is on the list of media that is the terror to me: it's about an apocalyptic disease that makes people reenact their routines mindlessly until they collapse. intimate apocalypse novel with themes of late capitalist malaise.

ocean’s echo by everina maxwell: i didn't really like winter's orbit because i'm just not a romance guy, but this second novel stands alone and the romance is more insane and less of the entire point of the novel. (also it's between essentially Discworld's Carrot and Moist Von Lipwig, which is. really something.) in the Space Military, a buttoned-up mind controller must pretend to bend a socialite with illegal mind-reading powers to his will. what if fake relationship but the relationship they have to fake is "brain linked master/servant pair."

the murderbot diaries by martha wells: novellas about a misanthropic security android who jailbroke itself in order to watch tv. the name "murderbot" is a joke but it very much did kill people <3 themes of paranoia and outsiderhood, corporate wrongdoing, repentance, and trust

black water sister by zen cho: zen cho is good at any kind of fantasy she writes, including this, her first modern fantasy novel. a closeted lesbian has to move in with her family in malaysia after college in the US, only to discover that her dead grandmother has some unfinished business involving a local goddess and a conniving real estate developer. themes of family, gender, and place.

the way inn by will wiles: a man who’s paid to pretend he’s other people to attend conferences in their place gets trapped in an endless Marriott. has the sharp humor of a colson whitehead corporate satire until it becomes more straightforwardly horror-flavored.

[misguided-madness]

This is the 65 year old “Queen Of Pop”: Madonna has performed on eleven concert tours, she starts her 12th tour to celebrate 40+ Years in music this weekend in London, I will see it in February, she has also done nineteen one-off concerts, nine benefit concerts, and three music festivals. She is the best-selling female recording artist of all time, a Guinness, book of world records honoree, a record breaker, more awards than can be named, with a net worth in 2023 of over 850 million dollars!

Selling more than 300 million albums worldwide, (By the way - most before streaming and social media) Her 14 studio albums have spawned 12 No. 1s and 63 top 10 hits on the Billboard Hot 100, and counting and she earned a spot in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2008. Her music in streaming numbers are growing fast including lots of her previous hits. This past year or so and this summer she has had collaborations with Sam Smith, Dua Lupa, and most recently the summer hit “Popular” with The Weeknd and Playboi Carti which is still climbing and maintaining high positions on a various world charts, some even in the top 10 or 20 it’s becoming another successful hit for her.

Madonna's legacy is more than her music, The seven-time GRAMMY-winner has empowered several generations to own their sexuality and call their own shots; she dared to be different and bending the rules on and off stage, particularly with the merging of sexual freedom and religion. Her fearlessness helped open doors for individuality in pop music, and the other female singers who came after her and beyond, have been influenced by her. Others of her legendary status, like David Bowie, Michael Jackson, Prince, Whitney Houston, and George Michael are gone, She was the first woman in that status to rule in a very man’s dominated music world! Others like Janet Jackson and Cyndi Lauper have maintained their careers but not like Madonna! On top of being a music artist, she’s been a music mogul, a Director, an actress, an author a fashion and beauty designer and mogul and so much more.

Madonna became a megastar that didn't just rule the world — she changed culture.

This weekend when she makes her glorious return to the stage again, she'll remind the world of her relentless, fight, spirit and fearlessness that made her the standard for nearly every female entertainer on the charts today and in the music scene, regardless of genre.

Madonna has supported gay rights, before it was trendy, pushed sexual freedom, implemented religious imagery, and reshaped feminism at a time when it wasn't trendy to do so. She was cancelled numerous times before that was a thing, banned, censored and beat up and written off by society multiple times - All the while, she never has apologized for her "rebel heart" — solidifying her legacy as the true and original Queen of Pop.

She’s a single mother of 6 kids, she has built a Hospital an Academy for girls, and more. She has raised millions of dollars for a variety of organizations and charities throughout the world including AIDS and HIV organizations, this even in the very beginning of the fight when celebrities did not want to be associated or help in the crisis that was HIV/AIDS - she did!

She continues to have her ray of light foundation and Raising Malawi charities and their programs.

Madonna is a global citizen, an original, there will never be another like her! She continues to show us all how to love, be compassionate, be brave, be ourselves, fight for what is right, and how to reign as queen of pop!

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: The Glorious Guinness Girls

Review: The Glorious Guinness Girls

Synopsis: From London to Ireland during the 1920s, this glorious, gripping, and richly textured story takes us to the heart of the remarkable real-life story of the Guinness Girls—perfect for fans of Downton Abbey and Julian Fellowes’ Belgravia. Descendants of the founder of the Guinness beer empire, they were the toast of 1920s high society, darlings of the press, with not a care in the world.…

[yoco-nagamiya]

ギネスビール帝国の子孫である３姉妹の物語、前作の”THE GLORIOUS GUINNESS GIRLS”に続き、 EMILY HOURICANさんの新作"MUMMY DARLING"の表紙を描かせて頂きました。

I drew the cover for EMILY HOURICAN's new book "MUMMY DARLING", which follows her previous book "THE GLORIOUS GUINNESS GIRLS", a story about three sisters who are descendants of the Guinness Beer Empire. MUMMY DARLING" by EMILY HOURICAN.

[podcastpalace]

Ep 436 The Glorious Guinness Girls by The Irish Times Women's Podcast .... The most fabulous and famous family dynasty in Britain and Ireland during the 1920s were the grand-daughters of the first Lord Iveagh also known as the Glorious Guinness Girls. The glamour, the drama and the secrets are explored in fiction by writer Emily Hourican who spoke to Kathy Sheridan about her new novel The Glorious Guinness Girls. Hourican talks about the inspiration for the book, her geographically diverse childhood and her cancer diagnosis five years ago. Also, a reminder that tickets are still available for our Big Night In Season 2 which kicks off on Saturday October 3rd with Senator Eileen Flynn. Tickets available on irishtimes.com/big-night-in

[missymurphy1985]

One Shot Smut Challenge

So New - Cillian Murphy X fem!reader One Shot

Warnings - virginity loss / smut / praise kink

Authors Note - set in 2003, Cillian is 27 in this story, Reader has just turned 21.

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08 @queenofkings1212 @look-at-the-soul

Requested by @itssamlavadaa

You couldn't quite believe you were here. A fancy Italian restaurant, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candles on the tables. A fully trained sommelier at your beck and call. Paintings of beautiful Italian scenery lined the walls, images of Venician Gondolas, sweeping landscapes, glorious blue lakes.. you had pinched yourself a dozen times and each time it didn't make it seem more real.

Looking across the table at your boyfriend's bemused face, you giggled shyly.

"Are you okay?" Cillian asked, placing his hand over yours on the table.

"I've never been anywhere like this," you admitted, feeling a different kind of pinch. The one that reminded you just how different you both were, and how surreal this whole experience had been so far.

"If I'm honest, I don't normally do stuff like this either."

"So why are you?"

"Because it's a special occasion."

"It's only my birthday, Cill, there was honestly no need -"

"A special venue for a special girl, on a very special birthday."

You turned 21 three days ago.

He was turning 28 in a few weeks himself, but the age gap had never bothered him. He'd never mentioned it, anyway.

But the real reason for your nerves had nothing to do with the fancy decor, or the chandeliers. Or the food menu that frankly blew your mind - you didn't recognise a single dish that wasn't Bolognese or lasagne.

It was what you knew was coming when you went back to his flat after dinner.

And how disappointed he'd be. He'd probably laugh at you like your friend did when you talked to her about it earlier that night.

"You look uncomfortable, do you wanna go somewhere else?" He asked gently.

"I don't.. I'm sorry, I'm fine honestly."

"Get your bag and coat, come on." He refused your argument that you were fine and he paid for the untouched glasses of wine before pulling you out the door.

"Places like that are full of toffee-nosed, stuck up assholes. There's a great pub down the road with live music, how's that sound?" You grinned, and he took your hand leading you down the street.

No one bothered him while you ate and drank - as much as he was tipped as the hottest new thing to come out of Ireland, none of that fame malarkey bothered the Irish. All they were interested in was the band on stage playing old style jazz and Irish traditional music, and that the Guinness was stocked up behind the bar.

It was a far cry from your usual Friday nights, that was for sure. You'd normally be clearing plates and bowls from your last few tables at this point in the evening, preparing to close down the restaurant in Cork city centre that your parents owned and you worked part time in while completing your nursing degree.

You met Cillian in that restaurant a few months ago, having a meal with his family who were regulars there, but this was the first time you'd seen him join them. He had flirted with you throughout the meal, asking you about each dish, the wines on offer, and cheekily at the end of the meal - asking for your phone number.

You handed it over at the end of your shift before heading home, not expecting him to call. But call he did the next day, inviting you out for a walk along the beach. You'd been inseparable ever since.

Tomorrow morning, Cillian was booked to be on the 6am train to Dublin to audition for a play and you were going with him. With the early start, it made sense for you to stay overnight at his flat in Ballintemple down the road from the station, and without thinking you had agreed.

But as the night wore on, and closing time neared, you felt nauseous. Your skin felt clammy. And of course... He noticed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, stroking your arm as the bell for last orders rang.

"Yeah, sorry, must just have had one too many," you laughed, nervously, pulling your coat on.

He didn't look convinced, though. The two of you headed out and jumped in the waiting taxi.

Sipping a glass of water and looking through his record collection for the fifth time, he sat watching you from the sofa. Both of you had changed into comfier clothes, your makeup removed and hair tied back in a bun. He took a swig of his bottle of Heineken and chuckled.

"You know, those records don't change the longer you look at them?" He smirked, and you nodded. You heard him stand up and approach you, his hands on your shoulders as he turned you gently to look at him.

"Tell me what's wrong," he urged kindly, sliding his hands down your arms and pulling you over to the sofa, sitting you down next to him.

"Okay... I.. um.."

"If it's about tonight, I'll sleep on the sofa YN, it's no problem?"

"No, I don't want you to."

"Then what?"

You took a deep breath and the words fell out of your mouth so quickly he had to pause to assess what it was you'd said.

"You're a virgin?" He asked, not a flicker of the expected amusement on his face.

"Why has that fact made you so nervous tonight?"

You nodded. Cheeks on fire.

"Because I'm sleeping with you tonight."

"Are you now?"

You nodded again. Feeling more confident.

"So you want me to take your virginity?"

"Please..."

He smiled, and linked his fingers with yours, pulling you over to him. His lips met yours softly, melding together, your tongues connecting in perfect synchronisation as they danced.

"You're sure?" He asked again, eyes locked with yours.

"I'm sure."

Cillian took your hand and led you down the hall and through his bedroom door, closing it behind him. He stroked the side of your cheek and looked deep into your eyes, the blue in them intensifying, sending a tingling feeling down your spine.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He smiled, studying your features like they were hanging in the Louvre, his hand stroking the side of your neck now, playing with the neckline of your t-shirt.

You didn't know what to do, so you stood there while he traced his hand down your t shirt, over your firm breasts, your navel, and came to a stop at the hem of the garment.

"May I?" He asked, hooking his fingers inside it, his other hand coming up to do the same. You nodded slowly, still nervous, and he lifted it carefully over your head. His eyes now on your torso - the plain white bra you'd chosen suddenly feeling like a bad idea...

"I'm going to make my girl feel every inch the goddess she is," he licked his lips and walked you over to the bed, laying you on the duvet. He lay next to you, his hand tracing over your skin as your back arched involuntarily, your breathing hitching in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed.

"That feels good, doesn't it?" He whispered in your ear as his hand travelled lower, over your abdomen.

"Yes..." You whimpered, biting your lip as his fingers slid under the waistband of your jogging bottoms, under the hem of your panties, and gently caressing your mound. Silently thanking your yesterday self for shaving...

You felt your body tense as his fingers moved lower still, parting your thighs a little before teasing over your folds. His lips still at your ear, his heavy breathing sending pleasurable shivers down your back.

"Relax, sweet girl, relax.." you felt his fingers open your folds, gathering the slick moisture and sliding over your clit. A gasp left your lips as he circled it gently, a low moan escaping his as he felt your hips start to gyrate against his hand.

Over and over he circled the swollen bud, until you were writhing gently over the bed. It felt good when you touched yourself, but never this good.

The way he breathed in your ear, gentle moans and little groans, and the sudden feeling of pressure against your side was turning you on further. Knowing exactly what it was pressing into you, and you were the cause of it, was exhilarating.

"Are you gonna cum for me baby?" He asked, his voice deeper than normal as you nodded, your hips rocking up and down against his fingers as he added some pressure and speed.

"Oh god... Oh god... Cill..."

"You want to cum, don't you pretty girl... Do it for me..."

The white hot release you'd been chasing came with such a force you didn't have time to react. A loud cry came from the pit of your chest, your hand gripping his wrist to hold his fingers in place as he rubbed you through your orgasm, your back arched as you climaxed.

He sat up on his knees between your legs, and smiled watching you come back down to earth. Any feelings of uncertainty were certainly out the window now.

His hands hooked the waistband of your trousers and he raised an eyebrow at you.

"So pretty when you cum Y/N.. let me see the rest of you now, yeah?"

You watched as he slid your bottoms and panties down your legs, and he removed his t-shirt. Your eyes cast over his chest, a fine dusting of chest hair across the top.

His trousers were next to come off, and his erection stood proudly in front of you - thick and rock hard. He walked over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room and pulled a condom out of a box. He slid it on before coming back over to you, parting your legs with his hands and admiring you from above.

"Fuck, that pussy looks inviting," he smiled, kneeling down between your thighs.

"Go slow.. okay?" You gasped, as he lined himself against your folds.

"Are you ready?" Cillian's eyes locked with yours and you nodded, your mouth and eyes opening wider as you felt the pressure between your legs. The look of concentration on his face as he pushed his length inside you slowly made your core clench, the sudden tightness making him pause. Giving you a chance to relax again, he pushed further and lowered his body down onto yours, his nose brushing yours lightly.

"A few moments of pain, beautiful girl, and I'll make it feel so much better... Relax baby... Relax..." His words soothed you, your eyes closing as you focused on his voice.

His hips slammed in, your breath caught in your throat, his lips clamped onto yours with a deep grunt. The passionate kiss he shared with you easing the sting, the gentle moans from his chest reverberating against your mouth.

"Good girl... Good girl..." Your walls instantly relaxing, he started to move. Slowly at first, allowing you to adjust.

It didn't take long to find a rhythm. His hips thrusting a little harder and faster, carefully yet skilfully. Your legs found their way around his waist, your hands on his lower back as he picked up the pace a little, feeling your walls start to flutter around his sheathed cock.

You could feel it in your stomach, you were sure of it.. or at least you could feel a coil burning and tightening within it. Every thrust angled perfectly, your nails dug into the flesh of his lower back as you felt an orgasm build - more powerful than the last one.

"Look at you.. you're taking me so well YN..." The things his words were doing to you was so intense you couldn't hold back your orgasm if you tried. A few more solid thrusts deep inside had you coming undone, crying his name.

"Fuck that feels incredible, keep cumming for me, good girl, good fucking girl, oh fuck..." His eyes locked on yours, a deep groan left his lips as his cock pulsed inside you, several streams of his seed filling the condom. His fingers gripped the bedsheets by your head as he finished, his thrusts pausing as the last drops left his cock.

"So good.. so good.." he panted, relaxing onto your chest. Rolling off you gently and discarding the condom, he pulled your body under the covers and left the room, coming back with a damp cloth, water and painkillers. Lifting the duvet, he cleaned you gently, wiping away the slight smears of pink between your legs. Once he was done, he climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around your body and kissing you softly.

"How do you feel?" He asked, nudging your nose with his.

"Incredible."

"It gets easier, I promise," he smiled, his hand stroking over your curves under the blanket.

You didn't have any words left, sleep coming so quickly. All you heard was his soft, gentle words telling you how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to have you, and his hand running through your hair, massaging your scalp, before you fell into a deep sleep.

Dreaming of your future with him by your side.

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

remade all the time, made new

Awkward Attempts at Parenting: The Fic is a work in progress no longer! It is Done! And I am Proud of It!

(And I may have stayed up until 3 A.M. working on it when I should have been studying for my trig final)

Title from an Ursula Le Guin quote: “Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”

Magnus Quinn isn’t sure what to make of the cavalier from the Ninth, but he knows he’s worried about her. Or, rather, he wants to worry about her, if he could only figure out how to reach her. She doesn’t seem like she’d be receptive to the same kind of fathering as the duo from the Fourth. Ruffling her hair and telling her he’s proud of her would probably drive her away faster than if he’d jabbed his rapier in her face. It takes some time for him to realize that there’s a starved look to her, hidden beneath the cocky glow in her strange yellow eyes. She needs a decent meal and a kind word yesterday. 

Luckily enough, he has some degree of experience with providing both.

He first got the idea a few days into their collective stay at Canaan House, when he noticed her sitting alone at breakfast, knocking back weak tea and barely seasoned rice like it was manna from God Himself. He’d been picking idly at his own gluey bowl, thinking of the well - stocked kitchen he and Abigail had shared for so many years. Cast in the warm glow of the hearth at all hours and brimming with the best ingredients the Court gardens could muster. Magnus already missed it - missed the crackling of the coals, the feeling of yeasted dough taking shape beneath his hands, the simple satisfaction of dicing vegetables into neat, even cubes. That kitchen was a place of community and peace for as long he’d known it. Perhaps he could create something similar here  - give himself an outlet and provide a sort of common ground to quell the already brewing House tensions. It seemed like his handiwork would be appreciated by one other person, at least. 

For the past week or so he’d made arrangements, carving out a few hours in his schedule, insisting that he really didn’t need help from the hovering skeletal staff and gathering ingredients from the meager pantries. He ultimately decided to start simple with the recipe - the dense, hearty bread he shared with Abigail when he first met her. Familiar as the back of his hand and easy enough to walk a novice through. 

Now that he’s gotten everything in order, it’s only a matter of inviting the Ninth girl to join him. She wanders by the galley wing every so often, seemingly bored out of her mind. Magnus steps out into the hall when he hears the pacing thud of her boots approach and clears his throat lightly to keep from startling her. It doesn’t quite work. Her lamplight eyes dart up at the sound and her hand snaps out in a sharp practiced motion to land on the pommel of her blade. She relaxes a bit when sees him and offers him the slightest ghost of a sheepish smile. 

“You’re an awfully quick draw with that sword,” he says with a gentle smile of his own. “Though it’s a shame I had to scare you to witness it. Would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a moment? I could use an extra pair of hands.”

She blinks, her smile fading, seemingly caught off guard once again by the strange request. For a long moment the silence stretches between them. To his relief she eventually nods, and he ushers her through the rotting wooden door with an exaggerated bow. She looks somehow even more confused and uncomfortable before bobbing a very awkward curtsy with the hem of her robes and stepping past. (How he’s already managed to make things worse for the poor girl, he’s not entirely sure, but he knows he’ll be kicking himself for it.)

Saving what little bit of face he can muster, he directs her toward the cracked washbasin in the corner to wash her hands and busies himself with gathering measuring cups. They’re old, these ones - yellowing strips of what must have once been labels peel away from the dented metal - but they’ll do. 

He worries the end of one of these labels between his fingers as the girl drifts back over, wiping her hands on the front of her robes. For someone as tall and strong as she is, with a presence forceful enough to put a Cohort gunner to shame, she hovers a lot. Seems to hesitate for a split second before committing full - tilt to each movement. Like she’s bracing herself somehow. Like she’s daring the world to stop her. 

Like she’s never quite sure if she’s wanted. 

Oh. Oh, kiddo.

He wants to reassure her, tell her that she’s fine, somehow give whoever dulled this wildfire girl’s spirit a piece of his goddamn mind - 

What he says instead is “do you know how to proof dough? You’re a bright young lady, I’d hate to bore you by walking you through something you already know.”

She doesn’t, it turns out, but she takes to it well. He shows her how to measure and level the sugar and flour, heat the water to just the right temperature to bring the dusty spoonful of yeast back to life, knead and stretch and shape the dough after it’s had time to rest. The crooked, satisfied little grin that graces her face when the sticky goop turns elastic and smooth under her hands warms his heart. 

The fruit of her labor is admittedly not a pretty sight - misshapen and lumpy - but it’s a strong start. It’s got the makings of greatness. (Or at least edibility. Both are good goals to shoot for.)

“You know,” he says as she places her glorious creation in the oven, “you might be one of the few outside the Court who’s made this particular recipe. Closely guarded secret of ours, or so Abby tells me.”

(A strange, dark look flickers across her face at the word “secret.” He pretends not to notice.)

“I’m happy to pass our little tradition on to the House of the Ninth. And it really is a shame that it’s been ours alone up until now. I never did understand as a kid why we all hold each other at such an arm’s length. Now that I’ve seen more of the world, I think I understand it even less. Power and wealth just don’t seem that grand a prize.”

She nods along absently, her eyes faraway. It’s long past time to change the subject and give her space to think.

He leaves her be for a moment, brewing a cup of tea to his own bracingly bitter specifications and taking a stab (heh) at how she might like hers. Sugar, he thinks. A healthy dash of sugar. He wonders if she’s ever had anything properly sweet. 

From the startled, wondering look on her face at her first sip (and the way she mouths what looks like “what the fuck” before draining the cup), he would say no.  

All the more reason he’s glad he asked her here. 

The minutes tick by from there in companionable silence. Occasionally the quiet is broken by a sound from the hall - the familiar whispering of the Fourth’s pair of gossips, the metronome - perfect clatter of the Second’s boots on the marble, the silvery, chiming laugh of the Third’s golden princess - but even the interruptions are comforting. They make this long dead place feel like something that could be revived. Something with a little precious bit of life left in it. 

A few overheard conversations (and a salacious bit of gossip that makes his companion snicker into her teacup) later, the Fifth & Ninth Collaborative Creation is ready to be unveiled to the world. Pulling on the closest approximation of oven mitts he can find (an ancient pair of thick sparring gloves), he carefully lifts the loaf from the heat of the oven and sets it down on a nearby counter. 

It’s no prettier than it was when it started baking, but it looks distinctly more edible now - golden brown, puffed up tall with a crust that crackles lightly under his hands. Perfectly respectable for a beginner. He lets her do the honors once it cools a bit, handing her a serrated knife from the nearby block and watching with a flare of pride as a column of fragrant steam billows forth. 

“You did a fine job,” he tells her, and means it. She hunches into herself and blushes a little under her mask of dark paint, but her eyes shine bright as polished coins. 

In the end, the ragged little loaf is what bread ought to be - warming and fortifying and worth sharing. 

(And if he happens to notice a certain dour necromancer picking at a piece with something approaching enthusiasm while she studies - well. He'll tell her someday.)

[thewildeclub]

Hii! #4 & #22 for the quarantine questions ☺

Good Morning! I hope you are doing brilliantly on this glorious Friday.

4: Your go-to bar order, if you drink? Oh I love this question. If I just want to have a nice cocktail and sip on it, its a cosmopolitan or a Guinness. However, if I’m at this bar to have a tipsy good time, I also go to a Kraken and Coke or Jack Daniel’s Honey Whisky.  

22:  What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) Honestly, reading this question gave me such a good laugh. So please, love, realize I have cared about a lot of things throughout my life. I went through a Egyptian mythology phase, bohemian/hippie phase, ballerina phase, Arthurian magic phase, and high school rounded out a emo/theatre phase that was playing out at the same time. 

[fortheheavenssake]

MM ANON II - 2.

72. July 1

MM ANON ……… Hong gone ………… Melbourne hellbourn……… Britain made a wedding profit ??? …………… 4 th July closed. …………… Independent’s bug. …………Maple Kate forever……… George is upset…………… 🎼follow er of fashion 🎼………………… MM, a legend in her own lunchtime ……………… Wigan bin in ……………………air Bridge of size.

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73. July 2

MM ANON ………OMG your under arrest………… video link………… across the border Scotland ……………surprise George …………… Charlotte leads………… Kate&William on top again ………… MM pathetic and mendacious ………… fakency lies……………… “ nice to be going soon cabbage“………… “ yes , I’m looking forward to a drive around the grounds” ………… “ shooting party’s this year” ……… “ doctors approval Philip “ …………” we’ll bring Sydney “……… “ Ahhh, that reminds me,Sydney!!”……… “Philip, it’s tic toc.”

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74. July 3

MM ANON ………… 0600 hr. ……………… build,build,build, drink ,drink,drink …………… 🎼Braaaaaazil🎼……………… business as unusual …………… speak to the Guinness ………… TSDONY………… Subpoena ad testomonium…… theatre/ no theatre ……………… but not America ………… Lone Ranger……………… Mt, Rushmore ………… a bad day in LA ………… still hiding

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75. July 4

MM ANON ……… formula sprog………… madness will spill………… stupid father………… no she wont’ yes she will……… Nigel’s illegal pint………… Williams cider………… Spain’s pain……………… ahhhhhh, blonde bits …………… 🎼only the lonely🎼……………… for love or MONEY …………… HMTQ ( NENC) ………… with the contempt she deserves …………… it’s all a gamble , Arrrrrr!!

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76. July 8

MM ANON ……… girl up the creek………hostage man. ………… half free meal………… drug exposure …………… …staff redundancy at HMTQ …………… boarding rules …………… most popular royal ……………… mines a cider……… ( where’s pg 💜💜) ……………”it’s Balmoral Philip, but not as we know it) …… out of his Depp-th… “ more 🎼Braziiiiil🎼…………… Spanish flu?? ……… 🎼we’re all going on a summer holiday 🎼

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77. July 9

MM ANON …… HMTQ The long wait ………… BLM Trumps ………… no taxes………… boarding Charlotte 🥳🥳🥳……Boarding George 😱😱😱😱………… open the Jim…………… Brazil el Presidente……… Amber Amber,red……………IOC allow protest? ………… school 😷 masks. ……………cricket lovely cricket ………don’t cruise ………………glee, not today …………… tic-toc down. ……… red crane down.

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78. July 10

MM ANON …THANK EVERYONE WHO ATTEMPTS AND GIVES SUCH CREATIVE ANSWERS. MY CONGRATULATIONS AND THANKS TO YOU ALL. 💜💜💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

79. July 10

MM ANON …… fly high Vera…………… Johnny poo…………… Murray mint Kate…………… now Pneumonia …………… Break cover……………… without merit ……… cover up Boris………… stop and search 😱😱😱…………… open theatre …………………… “ we want gan gan !! “ …………… “ we can visit Catherine “ …………… “ yes’ before Scotland “…………… “ clandestine William “ ……… “your grandfather will be ecstatic 🤣🤣🤣”

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80. July 11

MM ANON ………… relaxed on zoom…………… Leeds bleeds ………… office no office ………… compulsory …………… Brooklyn!! Yawn. ………… Smith, Will deny …………… “Well” , solve the mystery???…………… STONE cold guilty………… Bollywood in hospital ……………Beach sleep………… Tapes😱😱😱😱………… In secunda Eboracum venit ………… Boo-Hoo !!

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81. July 12

MM ANON ……… keep my sex life private…………… farm infectious …………… we don’t have to wear them…………… elephants virus ……………… sad swim ……………… down and out in LA…………… Burton blocks…………ROYAL BUTLER. ………… Fourteen Times!!!! ……………… Ritchies holiday camp …………ATMs lockdown ……………… electric scooters😱😱😱😱😱………… Kate tops poll

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82. July 13

MM ANON ……… heartbroken …………… musky Amber…… sleepy ice cream………… sad Lake……………… more organ warnings …………… huge slave factory’s ……………… tin foil………” never call your babies…???………………… second safest road ……………Forest Rambo…………………” you go old thing , it’s for the best” …………… “ I may stay!! “ …………… Ken. Palace bubble.

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83. July 14

MM ANON …… NO BAIL……… happy little people ………… gymnast aghast ………… George is not happy ………… a woke joke…………………… masked rats………………… carry on up the Amazon …………… “ so are White People” ……………… a new rash ……… HMTQ Royal zoom…………Black-burnt ……………… cut my card up………… veggies break out………… blame the dog-poo………………up up and Huawei………”

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84. July 15

MM ANON …… Now a “married”abomination ………… girlfriends!! …………… HMTQ,will she , won’t she…………… Kate’s amazing ascension ……………… the feeding machine ………… a future Queen in all but name. …………… “ Yes!! A homogeneous bubble” …………… a sterile palace ………black Colorado ……… sir Tom?? …………… a hush hush holiday. …………… awoke to a scathing review.

—————-

85. July 16

MM ANON …… “ after re-watching the Crown how on Earth did HMTQ accept the DOEs dalliances…………… it’s a miracle she never castrated him……… GBHMTQAOGC

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86. July 16

MM ANON ……… TODAYS RIDDLE IS A TRIBUTE TO OUR GLORIOUS MONARCHY … GBHMTQAOGC. …… Dear anons, take your time , this riddle is not a race …… GOD BLESS THE QUEEN.

——————

87. July 16

MM ANON …… HMTQ ……… The engagement …… The courtship …… The wedding …… The commonwealth tour……THE CORONATION …… The dalliances of Philip ……Her stoicism……… The children …… The 50/60/70/80/90…………PC/… W&K…… OUR MAGNIFICENT MONARCHY ……… The future legacy. ……… GBHMTQAOGC 🇬🇧

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88. July 17

MM Anon for PG💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

MM ANON ……… DEAR PG. such a magnanimous and eloquent tribute for all anons to enjoy and wonder at your historical recollections and memorable facts. A thousand thanks. A labour of loving and informative joy. My thanks is to say we’re so lucky and blessed to have a PG. …… BRAVA!!

We are indeed! This was such a labor of love, truly wonderful, we are blessed indeed!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

—————-

89. July 17

MM ANON …… Bea-discreet …………… “ give them a wave Philip, its a wedding “…………… “ I’m looking forward to congratulating the happy couple and sharing a few jokes “ ………… “ No Philip”…………… “ don’t be silly, I won’t say anything ……… “ NO PHILIP!! “ …………” what’s this Philip” ……… “ just a few notes” …………… “ you can’t say this!! ……… “ OK… bloody hell , it’s a joke” …………… “ if you said this , Italy would declare war!!” ……… “ bloody hell !!”

—————-

90. July 20

MM ANON ………… honeymoon Italia…… “hello my old China “…………… more engagements ………… Balmoral cottages ………… secret snaps ( eyes only) ………………”once upon a time “…………T. R. Ah. …………… the green eyed trasher ………… close the beaches …………… a coach full …………… Bea-frugal ……… unknown posie.

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91. July 21

MM ANON … Hello anons , I have a hospital appointment today at 10.00. At the RD&E for tests and an MRI ,Sounds all a bit dramatic, I hope not , things could be better but ……… one day at a time ! I love you all ,dear Skippy,PG , LK …… all you beautiful anons who fill my world with love and humility. I sincerely love you all , acceptance is the answer to ALL my problems. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜much love and hugs. ☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️☘️

———-

MM ANON...” in hospital at the moment, RD&E , so I cannot sleep, catheter!! I’ll attempt a riddle to keep myself awake. Much love to all

Oh…poor you! Prayers for you dear MM Anon..we are here for you❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

———-//—

92. July 22

MM ANON ………7 into 99…………The “wishing well”……… “ I can hear a canary singing “ …………… “ good news MM ANON, it’s not c***er🙏🏻………… By-polar …………… “ what , not the nurses” …………Biker Justice …………… Cor,i bin apologising …………… “ I wish her hell”……………… LA to stay away ……………… kiss and MAKE UP ………………Colonel Cam. ………… scouse rouse.

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93. July 23

MM ANON ……… love life exposed …………… gift of jewellery ……………… it’s all a mask ………………… sister protection ……………… yippee ,Balmoral …………… 15 Bank accounts??……………… return to school??? ……………… “ it’s the theatre Jim, but not as they show it”………… Sending in Federal Troops ……………………Bojo crabs ……………… a strong union 🤣🤣🤣……………… 4 million. …………” are you coming Sydney”………… “indubitably sir”…………… “ stock the cellar!! “ ……… “ your request is my command sir” ………… “ and don’t tell anyone I’m driving the LR.”

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94. July 24

MM ANON ……” since 1948 ,no changes ………… wags wobble………… phone a drone ………… Kim-vorce ……………… masked burger………… flowers for team Johnny ………… bailed out by old Bailey…………… Ban her from the palace ………………… tell all will destroy her……………… K&W&LCG will sunny fly to island???……………” I’ll drive Sydney!! “ ……… “ I’ll walk sir” …………… “ bloody get in”😱😱😱

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95. July 25

MM ANON … … “ SHOWGIRL”…………… “that girl” ………… “ I don’t trust her “……………… quarantine …… “we never consulted the authors”😂😂😂……………”it’s a gym Jim, but not as they row it”………… “coming for a swim”…………… knock em for SIX……………Four!!!…………… “jump Frankie”…………” it’s only to the Glen Sydney “ …………… “ it’s three miles sir” ……… “ get the bloody hamper” ……… “I’ll drive back sir” ………… “ not a bloody chance Sydney” ……… “ then I refuse sir” ……… “get your bloody arse in the LR” … “reluctantly sir “😱😱

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96. July 26

MM ANON ………… BARC-ALONE-A……… no Transport home………on ya bike …………… obesities ………… floating for Vlad…………… Kim-jong-corona ………… Hurriicant ………… Moderna………Daisy down……… dog collar reunion …………………”more than kin and less than kind” ………… “ a three-pounder Sydney,the Gillie can smoke it” ………” Sydney, Sydney ……… SYDNEY???”

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97. July 27

MM ANON:…… arrivals !!…………… HMTQ, “ ego lava manus meas”……………” you bloody talk to them”……………Kate cry’s lies………… lying interview……… O ‘no!! …………… one man and his dog…………… a foggy moggy……… “ let’s go shooting Sydney “………… “ with guns sir” ……… “ lots of bloody guns” ……………” O dear”

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98. July 28

MM ANON …… colourful Cam !!…………… Fast Far-raar-ri blast. …………” let your daughter breathe “…………… A niece wedding …………… Inappropriate funds??………… Bush tragedy ……………… inappropriately shamed royal ………… a pricey disinfect ………… “ you’re a spot on gun Man Sydney!!”………… “ a privilege sir” ……… “ how’s the shoulder?” ……… “ I’ll recover sir “……… “ it’s stopped bleeding “ ……… “ just a flesh wound sir “ ……… “ next week Sydney? ……… “ I hear the Gillie comes highly recommend sir”……… “Ahh, spiffing!! “

——————

99. July 29

MM ANON………… Peter,Crouch with William ………… 🎼Son in Law🎼…………Facebook , Apple, google …………… 5 friends , Shhhhhh !!!……………… very upset islands………… MM is leaking 🤣🤣………… Refund , Shmeefund.…………Heath-row row!!……… “Why is ones arm in a sling Sydney ??…………… “ I slipped exiting the LR ma’am………” where was Philip ?………… “ sitting in the back ma’am”……” hello old thing, what’ho Sydney “ ……… good afternoon sir”……” Sydney had a hiatus Philip “……… “ O dear, looks sore Sydney “ ……” yes sir”…… “VERY!!”

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100. July 30

MM ANON ( BALMORAL ANON )…… “ who’s this Sydney?” … “ Mr Angiss sir, he’s come to install Netflix “… “ Ahhh, EPIC, what’s your first name?”… “Angus sir “…Ehh !!!, Angus Angiss”…”yes sir “… “ bloody hell, that’s unfortunate “ … “ My mother had a sense of humour sir”… “ bit like me then, what say you Sydney?……………” indubitably sir” …… “ bloody marvellous, The Queen wants to watch Ozark, she loves a bit of the old ultra violence “……… “ right ‘ refreshments Sydney,I’m parched!!”…… “yes sir “

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101. July 31

MM ANON …… Kate being scilly ……… ……… Borix nails down the caughin ………… roving explorer …………… phew! What a scorcher …………… Lions Arm-y…………… climate is a changing …………… ( get well mr, skippy 🌈) ……………beaches,stay away 😱😱………………Peer- pressure ‘ O brother!! …………… tick tick bite!! ……………”doctor, what’s growing on my arm.” …………… Williams conservs film

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[yusi-posts]

A Conversation With Now

Nowadays, there are many feminist issues that need to be addressed, paid attention to, and changed. Today, I want to discuss the power dynamic between men and women, and how sometimes men are taking complete control over women. Often during these times, women are seen as untrustworthy, which leads to the feeling of helplessness.

In the story “The Husband Stitch” written by Carmen Maria Machado, this issue of unequal power dynamic comes up several times throughout the story. The first time is at the very first line of the story, which sets the tone for the whole article: “Me: as a child, high-pitched, forgettable; as a woman, the same”(1, Machado). The author immediately puts this biased description on the voice of women, because as audience we all have common feelings about the unfair expectations towards women, which also indicates that this story is universal. Machado sets the tone in the first line of the story to bring audience into this uneasy and confusing emotional state. One of the stories that she told was when she was a young girl, her mother brings her to grocery shopping. She saw bloody and pale toes in the potatoes, and she even remembered the touch on her index finger. When she told this to her father, he said, “Why would Mr Barns sell toes? Where would he get them? And even if he got them somewhere, what would he have to gain by selling them among the potatoes? Why did no one notice the toes except for you?” (6, Machado) Being young, she could not answer these questions, and felt helpless after her father’s seemingly perfect logic. But as a grown woman, she said she would have told her father that “there are true things in the world only observed by a single set of eyes”(6, Machado). This story shows how powerful the man figure is and how much control they can have over women. In this situation, the author is oppressed to think critically towards her father. Only when she’s older did she realize that sometimes the truth are only in the hands of several people.

Another story that strongly demonstrates this top down power between men and women is when the narrator is in the hospital giving birth. As the nurse gives pills to make her sleepy so they can fix her where they cut, her husband and the doctor joke around about an extra stitch. Let’s pause for a second. The woman just went through such a painful, historical, glorious moment in her life to successfully give birth to their child, and the fact that the husband does not care how the woman feels, and that he is joking around when holding his wife’s hand is very disrespectful. The story continues. The husband said to the doctor,“How much to get that extra stitch? He asks. You offer that, right?” (13, Machado) “Please, I say to him. But it comes out slurred and twisted and possibly no more than a small moan. Neither man turns his head toward[s] me” (13, Machado). The husband says it in a way that’s so casual to get an extra stitch, and that all he cares about is how much it costs. He does not even ask for the wife’s permission to do something on her own body. The woman is in a state of extreme tiredness, and this man has even more power over her to make decisions. The doctor even chuckles about the husband asking the cost of stitch, and he says the man is not the first one to ask an extra stitch. The doctor also says to the woman after she is fully conscious, “You are all sewn up, don’t you worry. Nice and tight, everyone’s happy”(13, Machado). Excuse me? Who is happy? The language used here is very disturbing to me. Nice and tight, don’t you worry. All these men cared about was if she is sewed up nice and tight so they can have sex and enjoy their time.

Sometimes I wonder how we can truly get some men to care. This reminds me of the article “Bloodchild” written by Octavia Butler. Is it really that when men get pregnant and go through the whole process of giving birth can they understand the pain and uneasiness that women go through? These issues don’t just exist in stories. Back home in China, there are some men that only see women as sex partners and have no respect whatsoever towards them. Women are just a thing for them to enjoy. They also think that women are supposed to stay home and take care of children. Even in these days, similar ideas are still present. The idea of equality between men and women have to be addressed and taken into action. I know there are many different layers and branches from the concept of feminism, but we can start finding solutions to stop this unequal power dynamic between men and women.

In the essay “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction”, Ursula Le Guin talks about how important the way that story gets told and the content and meaning behind them is, and that stories should not just be about self-centered heros, aggression, and oppression. But you know what some people say to her? “That’s right, they said. What you are is a woman. Possibly not human at all, certainly defective”(Le Guin 151). What the author did was just bringing a creative idea about how stories should not always be his, but theirs. She suggested that we all start life with putting something we want in a basket, something that we think are beautiful, useful, and edible. It all starts with inclusivity instead of throwing arrows and shooting guns at each other. Those are some of her ideas yet some men say that she is “certainly defective”. This sense of power in men, and that women are irresponsible and untrustworthy is prevalent in these texts as well as real life; it is a universal problem. But how can we bring changes? Where do we even start? I see no hope.

[jlf23tumble]

1D Day, Hour Three

Almost halfway through this hour, which is almost halfway through this day, is the point where Louis Tomlinson stops having fucks left to give and starts getting real. He’s still a professional throughout hour three (not like Harry in hour two, oof), but god, how??? Everything here is a disaster, and it’s infuriating when you consider that a) this must have been somewhat planned out (the band is HUGE, allegedly 32 million people are watching), and b) it’s being produced in LA, presumably with easy access to professionals who have had some experience with live shows (since, what, the 1930s???). Anyway, I would have loved to hear the choice words Louis no doubt had for Ben Winston when he ran away during one of the Google+ Hangouts, lmao.

When I first watched this two years back, Niall’s nervous laughter nearly drove me insane, but this time around, I’m loving the subtle nuances w/r/t wtf is happening on this here day as Louis’s rage starts to climb and Niall’s Slytherin core starts to emerge. Deets under the cut.

Niall and Louis literally burst through a paper wall to launch hour three and reveal Niall’s lilac hair (also revealed: the fact that Niall’s “a diva,” according to Louis). The color’s hardly even noticeable, but Niall’s all worked up about it, and I’m betting he had to do this because he has no tattoos, so everyone wanted to freak his Virgo ass out with something “permanent.”

The first bit is so tiresome (Louis’s childhood friend, Stan, forcing the Milkshake City staff to perform the world’s sleepiest version of “Rock Me”), but I’m a huge fan of Stan’s for the Larry purple dildo video alone (ICONIC; ping me if you need a link), plus I love the tidbit about the time Harry came in for a milkshake for himself and “a friend back at home.”

After we survive this long-ass bit of fill, Louis and Stan take the piss out of each other and banter a bit with Niall, which is all pretty hilarious and also makes me sad in the key of “oh how I wish that was me.”

Because it wasn’t at all tedious in hour one, it’s time for another Guinness Book of World Records challenge (Louis: “Of course it is”), this time balancing coins on faces. Hey, speaking of faces, did you know that men are at peak hotness between the ages of 32 and 36? This guy is 22 years old, doing the stupidest task ever, help me, Jeebus:

Next up is the randomizer, which randomly pulls celebrity videos, and this is when the in-ears start acting up for Louis, who’s midway through Robbie Williams asking them for the best live performer they’ve ever seen, prompting Louis to give Ben the evil eye off camera and go off script to say Michael Buble, ha.

Some random sports man (update: Doncaster Rovers manager) demands that they do pressups up and burpees, and Louis gives us a surprisingly strong and steady nine pressups before proving why he’s most relatable:

After fits of unnecessary laughter from Niall, and a lot of exasperation about the technical problems so far from Louis (friend, you’ve seen nowt yet), we get the best VT from this entire day, the iconic bts video for “Talk Dirty to Me,” and if you watch nothing from any of this, please tell me you’ve seen it in full for Zayn the goofball! Liam’s hanky code shoutouts! Harry’s hip chub! Louis and his glorious torso! Niall in full Farmer Ted mode!

Next up, we get astronauts congratulating the D from space, and whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I mean, honestly, WHY? Are these astronauts fans? Is anyone besides Niall into space? I know there’s an intense interest in making space interesting for teens (how many times have people on the international space station beamed their way into MTV award shows at this point), but whyyyyy.

Scott tells us we’ll soon see Doctor Who (mild interest from Nouis) and Simon Cowell (Louis: “SIMON COWELL, WOO HOO, I LOVE THAT GUY!” Niall: “Simon GROWL”), but first up is Doctor Who, and this is where the wheels fall off the bus, technically speaking. First, there’s a 15-minute delay (!!), so Nouis are standing around while the Doctor handles some other interview for the BBC. Eventually, they connect, and Louis makes the understatement of the year (“This is gonna be tough”) as both the video and audio go full Inception and echo in and around each other to make us all woozy:

Louis again understates the chaos happening on screen by saying, “I think actually that this is not working,” and then begging for any VT, they don’t care, help (the VT is Niall being all humblecholy about their success and Ireland and something something, I’m not actually interested, sorry).

We come back to Louis still losing it, curious as to how they can have a link to space but can’t have a studio in LA link to the BBC, and yeah. YEAH. But enough about that, it’s Google+ Hangout (lololololol) time, and we don’t get too many answers to these vital fan questions because Ben is in Louis’s ear so much that Louis starts arguing with him about it and eventually runs off stage to yell at him in person, and god, it’s glorious. READY 2 FIGHT:

Because this is an utter trainwreck, the team decides to do another live link again, this time to the X Factor while it’s airing in the UK, and it’s…yeah, not good. Just awful, cameras out of synch, no sound, etc. Save us, random VT of Denmark!!

Hearing Louis say “tits up” is my new religion, but honestly, this chitchat with McFly is such a revelation. Apparently, they worked with Niall on something, so they gossip with Louis about what a diva Niall is (!) and how he brought a friend of his named Shawn around (!!), and there’s a lot of inside jokes I know nothing about, but I’m LIVING for Niall looking at all these boys on the screen and saying, “I feel like I’m alone in my bedroom,” and Louis’s response, “Okay, Niall!”

“Don’t Forget Where You Belong” is announced, but we don’t get to hear it (although we DO get to see some sweet Nouis dancing), and two more girls go into the call box of doom. Because this show’s producers can’t go ten minutes without a disaster, there’s increasingly urgent screaming from Louis to Ben to just roll the Zayn graffiti VT, which takes at least a full, tense minute to post. 

Zayn is incredibly hot, but my heart breaks for him saying it’s their 127th show, and he’s feeling inspired and creative to make art, and I just wonder how??? How are you not banging your head against a wall instead of painting it? Anyway, it’s a lot of spraypainting/artist au Zayn come to life, with Liam working out shirtless nearby and heaping praise on just about every single thing Zayn puts on the wall (awwwww). Also some nice Flicker reference points (Niall: “Zayn, will you draw a picture of me?” Zayn: “No. I don’t like you”). Ouch.

We come back to Rebecca, an opera singer who’s here to sing some tweets, and this is a horrible idea that Ben Winston stole from Jimmy Kimmel, right? When he used to have Josh Groban sing tweets a million years ago? Anyway, this ripoff doesn’t work because nobody can really understand the words, but credit to Louis for trying to cheat and speed this whole thing up:

When Rebecca finishes, Louis says he got emotional (Niall just laughs), and this poor girl says not to worry, she’ll do more later, and lmao at Louis: “Oh, OH, there’s more in store, Niall” (Niall: “Can’t wait”), sighhhhh, it’s torture for us all, tbh. Anyway, time for some Belgian VT and reinforcement that Louis’s part Belgian, which is why it’s super relevant, I guess.

The last bit is back to Dynamo, to redo the magic bit that failed with Harry in hour two. I’m still curious about this trick because there’s a piece of paper locked in this box (Harry’s dick holds the key to it), and tl/dr, Harry says April for the month an hour ago, but Louis says November, and sure enough, November plus all the other details are in this locked box. HMMMMM. Me as Harry’s finger delivering the key immediately in this segment, meaning he’s literally right there watching all of it. Pick someone supportive, etc.

Anyway, back to the trick, there’s a bit where Louis says he told Dynamo all this information earlier (Niall starts chewing his nails a bit ferociously at that), but then he backpedals brilliantly later about what an amazing, stunning trick, etc., and this group of sneaky liars, god, I love ‘em!

We get more terrible highlights, which sucks, because I kind of liked the way Louis was asking Niall what HIS highlights were, but never mind, let’s get Ben’s. I’ll leave you with this picture that makes me think of Louis hosting Family Feud, you know, the final round, when you have to see how your answers stacked up with a family member’s and if, together, you cleared 200 (“Name someone a person may confess a crime to”):

[jenoramaca]

A Very Special Episode

I had an idea for a Teddy story where he learns some Very Important Lessons about love, sex and obsession.  Here’s the first 1100 words or so.

***

Teddy was in the zone.  Pulling pints, mixing drinks, garnishing and flirting with all of the pretty girls in their short summer dresses.  The bar was especially busy tonight with it being the first night of San Francisco’s Fleet Week and packed with sailors and the women (and men) that liked them.

“I need a Guinness, two martinis, one wet one dry and a skinny pirate,” Lorraine said, grabbing a handful of maraschino cherries, eating them one by one.  

Teddy quickly started making the drinks while Lorraine waited.  “Don’t you have other tables to serve?” he asked, raising his voice over the noise in the bar.

“Why would I want to do that when I could stand here and watch you?”  Lorraine gave him a saucy grin and leaned forward, putting her elbows up on the bar.  Her efforts to give him a look down her top did not go unappreciated and Teddy returned her smile.

Ever since he’d started at this bar, Lorraine had been on his case, starting with gentle teasing about his height and then evolving to what else on him might be unusually … long.  “You going to hit that?” Duncan had asked one night as they left the bar, headed back to their apartment close to the Auror Academy.

Teddy turned and looked at Lorraine walking down the pavement, her high heels clicking away on the cement.  “Nah,” he said, shaking his head.

“Good, because I might,” Duncan said, nudging him with his elbow as they walked.  “You’re too picky.  What are you waiting for?”

Teddy frowned and shrugged, cheeks hot with embarrassment.  “I don’t know.  The right one, I guess?”

He set Lorraine’s drinks on her tray and gave her a little bow, earning a saucy wink in return.  What am I waiting for? he thought, mechanically taking orders and serving drinks.  Maybe I ought to take Lorraine up on her offer one of these nights.  Ginny and Harry made sure that I know, erm, everything I need to.

He took advantage of a lull in the frenetic pace of the night, reveling in the lack of people shouting and waving money at him.  Leaning back against the worktop, he screwed the cap off of an ice cold bottle of water, drinking half of it in one go.  

Projecting an air of a harried bartender snatching a moment of quiet, he watched the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything that looked unusual, well aware that someone from the academy could be observing him right now.  He and Duncan had been surprised when they’d learned that part of their Auror training would include a very mundane Muggle job.  

“As Aurors, you need to be able to blend in anywhere,” Captain Roberts had said, looking at them all over his glasses.  “You’ll spend three months at your assigned job—yes, Sutton?”

“Sir, will we still be attending training classes during this time?” Duncan asked, lowering his hand.

Captain Roberts sighed.  “Yes, Sutton, you’ll still be expected to attend your classes.  Now, as I was saying, you’ll spend three months …”

Raised voices above the roar in the bar attracted his attention and he subtly adjusted the shape of his right ear to better catch the sounds.  A sailor in his whites and a young lady seemed to be having a heated discussion and Teddy slung a rag over his shoulder, gathering up empty glasses in front of the couple.

“All right?” he asked, nodding at their mostly empty glasses.  “Can I get you any refills?”

The sailor looked at him, clearly disgruntled at his inconvenient interruption and gave a curt shake of his head.  The girl gave Teddy a smile and nodded.  “Can I get another rum and coke?” she asked.

“I thought we were—” the sailor started, only to be interrupted by Teddy once more.

“One rum and coke coming right up,” he said, pulling down a bottle from the top shelf behind him.  “You sure you don’t want anything, sailor?”

“No, thanks.”  He shot the girl a pointed look at turned away, losing himself in the surge of bodies.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, holding out a twenty dollar bill to him.  

Teddy waved it off.  “No worries, yeah?  Be careful.”

“I’m going to call it a night.  Maybe tomorrow will bring better sailors ashore.”  She gave him a lingering look and he raised an eyebrow, ignoring the impatient man waving at him.  She shrugged and stood up, leaving her drink untouched.  Teddy watched until she left, checking to make sure that sailor boy left her alone before finally turning to the man waving the money in his face.

For the rest of the night, Teddy stayed in his groove as the horde of sailors and their admirers slowly dwindled, bracing himself for the final push when he rang the bell for last call.  He was in the middle of trying to make three drinks with only two hands when he caught the fresh scent of the sea.

He loaded up Lorraine’s tray and looked up, nose twitching as he searched for the source of that heady scent.  That smells almost just like James, he thought, eyes moving methodically over the crowd.  He was in the middle of pulling a pint when he saw her, letting the beer slop over his hand.

She looked just the way he remembered with those glorious sea glass green eyes and long tumble of brown hair.  A strange prickling sensation traveled down from the top of his head to his fingertips, raising all of the small hairs on his arms.  He had a moment where he was sure his hair was changing color and he focused, concentrating on keeping it his usual sandy brown.

“Hey,” he said, trying his hands off on a bar rag.  “You’re just in time for last call.  What can I get you?” 

Marella smiled at him, sending another wave of prickles down his body.  “Och, Teddy, is it?  You’re looking well these days.”

Heat rose to his cheeks and he worked to contain the blush.  “Yes.  Marella, right?” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as fake a he felt.  There was no way he’d ever forget the name attached to those mesmerizing eyes and dazzling smile.

“Aye, it’s sweet of ye to remember me,” she said, her low voice managing to carry perfectly over the rumble of bar patrons desperately trying to get one last drink before heading out into the Indian summer night.  “Can ye make me a rum and coke before ye have to shut down?”

“Rum and coke, coming right up,” he said, embarrassed to be caught staring at her like a deer in the headlights.  He set the drink down in front of her, waving away her money  “On the house.”  Where do selkies even get money? he wondered as he turned way to serve the other patrons.

By the time he had another opportunity to look for her again, she was gone, leaving behind an empty glass and a lingering scent of the wild sea.

[permian-tropos]

TIME TO GUSH ABOUT TLJ cause I was looking through screenshots and here’s a bunch of things I might not have mentioned before and a few that I have

1) Paige Tico!!!! PAIGE TICO! her entire time in the spotlight is such a perfectly crafted, perfectly tense scene

2) UM THE OPENING SPACE BATTLE IS SICK the bombers have such striking silhouettes and this is used for some amazing shots

3) PAIGE’S DEATH BEING PRESENTED AS TRAGEDY (and not being softened heavily with the promise of being part of something meaningful the way R1′s deaths are) 

4) Captain Candy Crush’s death is given gravity too and I stan this, he’s not made sympathetic and still there’s nothing triumphant about people being blown up. war is not good

5) Finn’s pod is very flattering and angelic even though his water suit is silly. he basically has a halo and no filmmaker would accidentally give a character a halo so jot that down

6) Snoke’s throne room being utilitarian AND extravagant at the same time is impressive. also I still love the way that Snoke’s real form was made to be this exaggeratedly WASPy old man with the skin texture and wrinkles and pale tufty eyebrow hair, and you know what else? the fact that the camera favors showing the undamaged side of his face. I fucking stan the fact that Johnson took another disfigured villain and played up his old caucasian grandpa looks and made his disfigurement blend into his age. Snoke is a caricature of horrid old white men, possibly the first successful caricature of whiteness in speculative fiction. he looks like Henry Kissinger

7) Kylo Ren’s bandaid has a pattern on it. we ask ourselves. why. did he get to pick out the pattern. are there multiple patterns. are they all edgy and black. I’m now completely invested in whoever decided that they would have patterned bandaids but not make them TOO fun

8) the movie is so pretty im just. the fuckign. aesthetic. all of it. the palette seems to have been taken from a thunderstorm and it’s perfect. the use of gray is a reason I happen to think people didn’t like the film. they were like what the fuck is all this gray in star wars. star wars shouldn’t be gray. but it’s so unique, it’s not the gray of lazy color grading, it’s the gray of someone who knew that the feeling of haze and uncertainty needed some gray and rolled it in like a fog. I’m going to have to post more screenshots

9) I like the fact that the puppet porgs, as opposed to the CGI porgs, are actually kinda ugly cute

10) everything mark hamill does is perfect. every line, every facial expression, every pose. every moment from luke in tlj is unbelievably iconic. alec guinness would be so jealous 

11) Luke perking up and genuinely smiling when he sees R2D2 is the purest moment I have to just 

my eyes are moist

12) the architecture and set design is so amazing too? I love this shot introducing Rose, the harsh contrast that draws your eye away from her, the way she’s fading into her corner of brownish-gray, it’s so good for evoking... idk, just how the world seems too bright and too stark and made of shapes, after someone you love dies

13) I really love how much time we spend on Ahch-To, and how none of it has any campy space action. you’d expect to see some training there, but a lot of people were clearly hoping that Luke and Rey would leave the planet. but we linger so much on the setting, a setting which wholly embodies Luke’s state of mind

14) old luke is a handsome gent. i don’t see enough people with the hots for old luke. this is a big mistake

15) this shot foreshadows Kylo Ren becoming the Supreme Leader IMO. we see him surveying the war machine, watching the instruments of death be constructed, set apart from everyone -- a glimpse into Kylo’s desire for absolute power without anything being direct. maybe he’s contemplating his isolated existence, how much he doesn’t belong in the Order. or maybe he sees an allure to all this. this is what he wants to possess. it’s probably a mixture of both

16) Rey and Luke!!!!!!! everything about how the film frames them develops their relationship!! even as Luke is testy with her, we get shots like these where they’re sharing a warm sunset light and having deep heart to hearts. 

and you know what you know what what what

the fact that Rey starts asking WHO her parents are after meeting Luke is uhh clearly suggesting that she’s wondering if maybe Luke is her dad. I love in this one shot how he’s slumped and she’s sitting up straighter, making him the vulnerable one. I love how the sunset light highlights Rey’s buns. I love that she keeps her buns for a while. I love that people have headcanoned she kept the buns so that her parents would recognize her, and she has the buns in the whole time she’s trying to get Luke to act like the hero she believes in. like she’s trying to get him to recognize her

Rey adopts Luke as her dad and it’s beautiful get out of my face

17) ye there’s a lot of dead children but also I hadn’t really thought about the fact that R2 watched this as well? and R2 was powered off for so long, until the end of TFA? R2 was traumatized and grieving too, and he’s seen this before, he remembers all the way back to when it was Anakin

18) hors!!!!!!!

19) what the SHIT is this why is this movie a fucking painting why does it keep outdoing itself in paintingness argh the way this film uses the day-night cycle is unbelievable, having Rey and Finn’s stories be connected by having the same time

THE HCKING MOON THOUGH 

20) Ok we could talk about how the cold blue moonlight of uncertainty has become the warm orange light of companionship but we can’t forget what firelight also represents re: Kylo cough burning temple nice little double meaning, is Rey making a new friend or is she being tempted, is he going to warm her or burn her

but also I haven’t thought about how fucking awkward Kylo looks!! is he sitting on that barrel?? like since he’s not there is he just sort of compositing himself into the scene? using a convenient barrel

21) see what I mean about blue being cold. blue = asceticism, red = indulgence, the two extremes 

22) Luke sinks into darkness

23) BUT HE DOES ONE THING! the thing that breaks him out of his depression. he takes the fire -- which represents the burned temple, represents Ben Solo, represents the humanity of the Dark Side -- into his own hands. we see the fire symbolizing destruction, then intimacy, then change, in such short succession

fire represents light-dark, something that is both at once. we’ll get back to this

24) you could say that balance is about making your own light in the darkness

also this is why Poe’s line about being the spark that will burn the First Order down isn’t ~too violent~ cause fire has become a symbol of change, of destruction reclaimed as something restorative, thank you very much 

25) can we talk about the fact that between this being like a coffin and the way Rey is holding the saber, this actually has the heaviest resemblance to the way medieval knights were depicted atop their sarcophagi. I don’t even know what it means but maybe it hints that Rey sees herself as a martyr and a crusader in this quest to redeem Kylo and prove her valor

26) the fact that Poe isn’t the only one who gets in on the coup. because the Resistance isn’t a real military it’s a few thousand antifas gathered from all around the galaxy and their numbers are dwindling fast. people kind of put it all on Poe but Connix and Finn and Rose and this woman and this man and this alien were part of it too, and they could have told Poe to cut it out. I like how the blonde woman seems like she’s not sure what’s going on, she’s evaluating the situation 

27) you know what I stan? I continue to stan aspects of how Snoke is portrayed. I stan the fact that he gets all close up in Rey’s face and grabs her cheek and it kind of mirrors the way Kylo gets in her personal space in TFA but even less so than in TFA, Rey is not framed in the way girls often are when they’re restrained and in distress. when she’s being tortured, we’re not given any tantalizing views of her body. Snoke floating her around the room has her stiff and awkward, and the close-up of her screaming in pain puts the camera behind her head so we see this from her POV, we’re not voyeuristically staring at her, we’re experiencing this indignity with her

28) Kylo Ren killing Snoke has the exact same light on his face as when he killed Han Solo. this is very very interesting

here I am in my corner of Kylo having twisted affection for Snoke as well

29) I wish I could ship this more cause I don’t need all this talk of fairy tale weddings and force pregnancies when here they are slicing up lobster boys with laser swords

30) oh but this is where he makes Rey look sad and thats where!!! you know hes gonna have to pay!!! basically everything about the scene where Kylo tears Rey’s heart out and stomps on it and then asks her to be grateful is extremely well done and it did its intended job of making me Big Mad At Kylo 

also look the fire is back its Symbolic

31) you know what I can’t show in this post? the FUCKING SOUND THAT COMES AFTER THE HYPERSPEED RAM. that sound is the most glorious sound I’ve heard come out of a movie. it’s like a massive metal whale’s death scream. Star Wars has always run on sound design but literally that sound (along with the scene it’s attached to) outdoes everything that has come before it holy wow

32) Finn WHACKING Phasma. he didn’t use a lightsaber in this film, but he uses the baton he picked up the same way he used the lightsaber, and it even glows blue for good measure. and we can’t forget that this movie shows a boy holding a broom like a lightsaber, and Rey practicing saberplay with her staff, so -- objects that are not lightsabers symbolizing lightsabers is a thing 

33) I didn’t think about the fact that the Supreme Leader’s throne room is designed to display a view of the outside, or be cloaked in red. possibly it could display anything it pleases. this is great fun for imagining First Order characters making it display things they want to see, like beautiful vistas, or holofilms. possibly it can recreate whole scenes, like a Star Trek holodeck

34) I don’t have to talk about how Leia is framed by the dawn on Crait do I? we already got the picture when it comes to the day-night cycle and how beautiful it is

35) BABY 8 I can’t believe this droid gets belly scritches and nuzzles from Poe

36) fucking love when Kylo finally snaps and starts throwing petty tantrums again at the end of the film like he holds back his brattiness for 12 hours and then here comes the screaming and foot stamping and flailing

I have thrown too many temper tantrums in my life to not want to see one on the big screen in its full glory. no one has pushed him to the point where he’s just ugly crying on the floor, spewing snot and tearing at his hair

I got vicarious pleasure out of Poe’s outburst on the bridge too. people being angry and not being in the right. it’s something I need for catharsis

37) miniaturized Death Star technology aka BIGGEST LIGHTSABER. Kylo stop compensating

but AU where a ginormous person uses the cannon as an actual saber

38) I’VE TALKED ABOUT HOW FINN’S MOMENT IS IN MY TOP TWO FEELS MOMENTS (top one is the hyperslice) but basically if you don’t think he was affected by seeing the slave kids on Canto Bight, what do you think he’s so angry about here, what do you think has him in a blinding rage?

why do movies have to spell everything out for people in exhaustive detail? the only new thing Finn gets from his experience with Rose, is seeing how the First Order isn’t this isolated enclave of evil. the most powerful people in the galaxy have been supporting it all along. he stops trying to run away because he realizes there is nowhere he can run that won’t have injustice. and he’s seen villagers being massacred, he’s seen the Order attack people he cares about, he’s been personally threatened and had one-on-one duels, but on his trip with Rose he sees children being beaten into submission with electric whips

can’t believe people think Finn wasn’t affected by that when it’s the one thing motivating his character growth

every time he sees civilians getting hurt -- children and families -- he sees himself and the family he’ll never know in them, and is so overwhelmed that he does something brash and radical and self-endangering every time, and his arc is about learning to live with that anger. he runs away from feeling and his angst is so beautiful

and I’m still in the camp of Finn having had a Zuko-like arc when he was a teenager because that boiling frustration at not being able to express his natural empathy is what drove Zuko to angst so hard

FINN IS THE SOLIDARITY KING! HE CARES SO FUCKING MUCH 

39) fire. Luke facing his demons involves him walking through a gate of flame, out of the darkness, into the light

I will say that this is also very Buddhist imagery -- the flaming sword symbolizes wisdom, which cuts through the veil of illusion, specifically the illusion of duality

“Mañjuśrī is depicted as a male bodhisattva wielding a flaming sword in his right hand, representing the realization of transcendent wisdom which cuts down ignorance and duality”

and of course fire being the bridge between light and dark has come up before in the film. the veil is visibly burning here, Luke having fully reclaimed the image of fire, which was earlier in the film held by Kylo Ren 

I mean. just. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

40) something about this shot is extra special. everything that’s going on on the salt flats is like on this higher dimension, this spiritual plane 

41) for a moment it looks like Luke and the First Order are standing against Kylo. gives you a glimpse into Kylo’s state of mind. is the Order his weapon, or his enemy? it’s both, and he’s absolutely terrified of it

also I’ve talked about how Palpatine’s Contingency plan is about getting revenge on his Empire because he hates its power as much as he revels in it, and he dedicates a good deal of time plotting ways to kill it, because he needs to prove that he is more powerful than it

being the Emperor or Supreme Leader carries with it the distinct horror of knowing that you can never be more powerful than the thing that has empowered you

42) 

43) Luke achieving 100% maximum Buddhist allegory

44) the slope of the floor is the slope of the opening crawl of a Star Wars film 

all right that’s all folks

[yoco-nagamiya]

“The GLORIOUS GUNNESS GIRLS ” by EMILY HOURICAN

ギネスビール帝国の子孫である３姉妹の物語。

こちらはピンクバージョンの表紙。

[douxreviews]

Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999) Review

[This review includes spoilers.]

Obi-Wan: "I have a bad feeling about this."

Probably most sci-fi geeks do just what Dan and I do every time we watch this movie: debate what went wrong.

Let's see. We have a boy with a great talent, leading a dull and pointless existence on a backwater planet. A great mentor and wise man comes along and sets him on his path before sacrificing his own life. The major focus is saving the life of a beautiful princess. I know what George Lucas had in mind. He was deliberately echoing his first Star Wars movie, now known as Episode Four.

Where I think he really went wrong was the casting. Little Jake Lloyd most certainly did his best with the material, but the character was just too young to carry the weight of the story. Anakin should have been at least fourteen. (The age difference between Anakin and Amidala was too great and made me cringe, thinking about their future relationship.) And the story itself was just too juvenile. Did Lucas not realize that his fans had grown up?

The other major, and I do mean major, mistakes were (1) Jar Jar Binks, (2) the Gungan/droid battle, (3) the incomprehensible political situation, and (4) the endless, oddly boring pod race that we knew Anakin would win. What was the point?

I don't think anything could have fixed Jar Jar. My instant dislike for him made the Gungans uninteresting as characters, too, which made the huge Gungan/droid battle scene pointless, especially since it was all CGI characters and I had no emotional investment in any of them. It was like watching chess pieces blowing up. Pointless. But the pod race could have been exciting if it had been truly deadly. What if the life of Anakin's mother had been at stake? What if winning would have meant her death? What if Anakin had had an alien friend also in the race, and he had crashed and died?

So what did I like about The Phantom Menace? Let me think.

It's visually stunning. This movie was the first in which George Lucas could fully express his imagination on screen without the limitations of puppets and models. The alien landscapes are just amazing, all of them. And then there are my glorious Jedi knights -- Ewan McGregor and Liam Neeson, who were both terrific. They gave us one of the best sword fights I've ever seen on film, too.

The casting gods smiled on George Lucas when he cast Ewan McGregor as the younger version of the character played so memorably by Sir Alec Guinness. I shudder to think of what the prequel trilogy would have been like without him. And I have always liked Natalie Portman, and I think she did her best as Padme/Amidala. If her performance is mildly wooden, I can readily blame it on the stilted dialogue. Why, oh why didn't Lucas hire a script doctor? Imagine what this movie would have been like if, say, Joss Whedon had pumped up the dialogue.

Bits and pieces:

-- Along with debating What Went Wrong, it can also be fun playing "Who's behind the make-up" game. Is the Queen Natalie Portman or is it Keira Knightley?

-- Mitichlorians. Virgin birth. No and no. And how could they say Anakin is too old to be trained as a Jedi? When do they usually start? When they're two?

-- How could a fourteen-year-old girl be "elected" queen? Idiotic.

-- The Sith Lord Darth Maul might have been scarier without horns. And why didn't they do an establishing scene, with him making mincemeat of some other poor Jedi knight?

-- The most famous quote from this movie is Yoda's. It is constantly parodied. "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

-- Speaking of Yoda, he looks terrible and un-Yoda-like in this movie. Fortunately, he got an upgrade in Episode Two.

I sort of liked this movie when I first saw it. But now, every time I see it, I like it less. One out of four stars.

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[wreckthelist]

his hug: meeting Ezra Miller

I remember watching, in passing, the recording of an oldies’ concert at my aunt’s—you know the one, sixties hair with girls losing their heads and minds for the Beatles or bands of equivalent caliber. “I want to be one of those screaming girls in the front row,” I was saying—wistful, trancelike, and feverish in a way your typical nonsensical fangirl can be. “It’s a dream. One day.”

And last night, actually standing there in front row, shaking my head and losing myself to Ezra Miller’s drumming, Lilah Larson’s voice and guitar, and Josh Aubrin’s keyboard playing, could never be more surreal.

I’d never been to a gig at a pub before. I was loitering in the front for a good two-three minutes, before gathering up my courage to wander inside.

Ordered a pint of Guinness (price was upped. But hey, it’s my way of paying for the Free Entry performance, I guess?), stood there sipping for a while until I caught eyes with a friendly-looking Korean girl. Her name is Soohee (Sonny), and we became fast friends, chatting and screaming about Ezra, the band, Doctor Who (Matt Smith), and, of course, Harry Styles (her phone wallpaper).

Lilah walked past from behind Soohee, from the pub’s backdoor to their Reserved Area. She’s so cool, calm, and collected. I was in awe of the all-black get-up and the polished expression on her face. Josh had already passed, at some point (I don’t quite remember this), so Ezra was next. A few minutes later, there he was. Very in the zone. Just cutting straight through, behind us.

We were sitting there, and I regretted screaming a bit already—because I, on a rare occasion, had someone to scream with/to.

So we chatted and waited, and a queue formed before we realised, toward the front of the pub. I forgot the venue was in the basement. And people gathered. We went downstairs, managed to snatch second row seats, and waited for the longest time before the opening act, Jamie Lee, appeared on stage spewing quite decent (self-described as ‘mediocre’) poetry and an acapella song. He spent a few minutes prior to his start picking and choosing through his pile of papers—we were wondering what exactly he was up to.

Think around almost an hour passed (my bad. I’m looking at the photo of the sign now and it’s there, in black and white, that the Sons were up at 9:30pm, not 9pm, as I’d thought.)—before the pub’s runner came out and placed mini water bottles at the front of the stage, by the drum kit (Ez!) and the keyboard.

I remember reading beforehand that they each would write a song and that each could play all their three instruments.

Was chatting animatedly to Soohee while waiting (taking a nap somewhat).

Then the bodyguard came out, followed by the Sons themselves. Just as they were about to start, he grabbed us both and dragged us out to the front.

Breathless with surprise was an understated description of us at that point.

No one was blocking our view. We were, quite literally, the girls in the front row. Dangerously. Intimately. Close to the band.

It was happening, and it was insane.

Live music has its perks, its charms. I, for one, had never thought I’d have a chance (and so close to me leaving dear old England, imagine that) I’d witness one of my favorite actors so immersed in his art, his band that I know he’s been in for 6-7 years, before my own eyes.

I wasn’t there just for Ezra, of course. I wasn’t. It’s the music, the band, and I’m not writing this as a post-mortem excuse to justify my presence there or manipulate my image either.

“Thank you, thank you for coming,” said Ezra, and he pulled out his phone, “This is so amazing. I’m going to take a picture of you guys.”

(Oh. God. So I made it—definitely did—into Ezra’s phone now, no joke. There’s that. Not bragging or anything, but there’s that.)

See, the guitar, blended with Lilah’s magnificent voice (the lush. The layers in her tone, her words, her caressing of those lyrics, the expressions. AH.), Josh’s upbeat, relentless keyboard playing, and Ezra’s powerhouse of a drumming, was a spectacle to behold, a glorious, glorious gift for the aural and visual senses.

Because they were so into it, because they were there and putting all of themselves into it.

Ezra’s bringing the house down, the cymbals and the drumsticks and his face shaking to and fro while playing, contorted and screaming and eyes closed, so into the music.

They broke into an acapella song in the middle (roughly) of the set, coming together at the front of the stage to sing a number about bringing down white supremacy and not stopping until the killing of black men is treated with the same respect and equality as that of the white. To which we all screamed, YES! HEY! YES!

I was holding my phone, and filming the clip, but I raised my arm up high, and screamed.

The rest of the time I was standing there, did some headbanging, closed my eyes, and just soaking it in, the experience, the music, the beats, the voices, losing myself to the music as much as they did.

Ezra took out his phone again at the end. No idea how these would turn out. I’m dying to see them though, fingers crossed should he (or the band!) ever post them.

It’s their first headlining gig outside North America (I know! My sun, my stars, my dreams. I thought I’d never….), after all.

Then came the part where we were a bit of idiots ourselves.

People crowded outside the Reserved Area after the show, waiting for Ezra. Some fans got quick selfies in and left, the rest of us were behind the crowd. He went outside (I saw Josh) for a smoke, not before saying something about (I might have been drinking Guinness on a semi-empty stomach) downstairs and arts and crafts.

So we waited at the exit for the longest time, until one of the security guys told us to go downstairs.

A crowd’s already there. We were quite late, and he’d have to leave soon.

But we stuck it out, and hung around the queue, waiting for our turn. A picture would be enough, we thought.

“Hi,” he said, his voice warm, eyes alert, when he got to me. Again, my coherence and articulation escaped me.

“Hi, hi,” I replied, and managed a, “You were so good!” to which he said, “Thank you!” (I ruminated on this for the longest time, as Soohee can attest, but I should have said: the band. Oh. Well.)

And then I asked:

“Can I get a hug?”

And you know, if you’d been reading this blog, that I’d never asked anyone I met for a hug at that point, until Ezra, whom last night was our second encounter (I thought this morning about how I should’ve told him about the press junket—but it’s not like he’d remember.) and whom I knew I could ask for one.

“Yes, of course!” Then he came in close, those muscled bear arms enveloping me. It was warm and pure and fizzy—and it wasn’t captured on camera, sure, but hug pics don’t always turn out recognizable. It’s two people, faceless, in an embrace, and only you are aware of the meaning behind the photo. (Drumroll.)

I was afraid it was going to be awkward. I was afraid I was not going to know when to let go. But I held on, and he held on. For the longest time. Longer than those fake hugs I’d imagine fleeting encounters consist of. And his arms. His vest. I could feel the fabric. The pressure. Just him being there.

With me.

And then he let go (Bless). I asked him for photos, of course, and said, “Can we do one good pic, one funny pic?” to him (again, when reflecting on this—I have no idea what possessed me to ask him that at that point. I have never.)

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be funny because of my face,” he added, arm around me, and I kept asking in my head, “Why---what made you say that, Ezra!! Your face is not funny.”

He gave me movie star smolders (swoon). I did not get the outrageous pictures Ezra was famous for with fans—but this was incredible enough in and of itself.

We’re back again when it’s all a blur to me. Soohee confirmed we did say ‘thank you,’ twice—I hope I did, because right after he took photos with me he greeted the couple after us, and I had to ask him if he could take pictures with Soohee.

“See, we’re back at this angle again. Just getting this circle of energy going!” Ezra said as Soohee stepped up to him for her photo (I’d taken mine with him at another angle of the room, and Soohee’s were 180 degrees of mine).

We skipped out of the crowd, toward the basement’s exit, Soohee not having asked him for his signatures, because right before us, we heard him saying, “I’d say let’s hug each other, take pictures, and keep moving!” in his cheerful way. “They’re going to clear us out soon.”

(Curse us. Why did we ever go upstairs.)

And the bodyguard (who’d seen us from the beginning, bless his heart) asked if we were okay. We nodded yes.

So that happened. So I’d met Ezra Miller a second time. What a conclusion. What an end to this London life.

It was two minutes, maybe, us there. Talking to him, but it lasted.

Like his hug, it lasted. And I know I’ll have to let go, and go back to reality—but I’m already here. So let me remember it lasting a while, let me remember it while it still lasts in my mind.