#yes highbrow is in there but he's not important

[krirebr]

Thanksgiving with the Barbers

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: You and Andy celebrate Thanksgiving. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, references to punishment, isolation, solitary confinement, hunger, negative self-talk, manipulation, angst, mental breakdown - This is a rough one, guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Masterlist

A/N: So... remember this part from I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas?

"Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner.

Yeah. This is that Thanksgiving.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who read so much of this and always encourages me to go as dark as my twisted little heart desires.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy’s soft murmurs traveled down the hallway to you from the entryway as he said goodbye to his guests. You couldn’t tell how things had gone. He’d seemed happy enough but as he’d started introducing you to his life outside these walls, you’d learned quickly how easily he could have one face for the world and a different one for you. He’d stressed many times all week how important it was that your first holiday together be perfect. Was it? Had you done enough?

You busied yourself with cleaning up the dining room, trying to ignore the churning dread in your stomach. The leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables had already been moved to the kitchen, waiting to be put away in the fridge. Then you’d start on the endless dishes. Hopefully, that would buy you some time alone, while Andy went back to the football on TV. 

You kept your head down and continued gathering the discarded plates as Andy’s heavy footsteps came down the hall. He entered the dining room and leaned against the old-fashioned buffet that took over one wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your own eyes down and didn’t say anything. You knew better now. 

You had a tall stack of plates now that you wanted to take into the kitchen, but you were afraid of turning your back on him and leaving the room. So, you stood where you were, and you waited. 

Finally, he cleared his throat. You looked up. “You were awfully quiet at dinner,” he said, softly, but there was an edge of steel in his tone. 

“No, I–” you started and immediately regretted it. That was a bad word. “I just didn’t have much to add to the conversation.” The guests were all Andy’s colleagues and their spouses. It’d been too much shop talk to keep track of. On top of being so many more people than you were used to.

Andy made a thoughtful little hum before he continued. “Barbara commented on it, as she said goodbye. Wanted to be sure you were ok, hadn’t felt left out.”

You forced a smile, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “Yes, I’m fine. I had a nice time. It was a good dinner.”

He pushed himself off of the buffet, straightening to his full height. “Really, you thought it was a good dinner? With a dry turkey and an unfriendly hostess?”

You couldn’t help the way you blanched. You’d never cooked a whole turkey before or anything like it.  And you didn’t have access to the internet right now, so you were limited to the highbrow cookbooks Andy had bought for you. While those recipes were detailed, they didn’t exactly have tips and tricks for beginners. You’d tried your best. And no one at dinner had complained. Everyone seemed to enjoy it. You’d thought it was ok. But he didn’t want to hear you defend yourself, so you said nothing. 

He looked at the dirty dishes spread across the table and scowled. “Finish cleaning this up,” he said. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re done.”

You nodded quickly with a quiet, “Yes, Andy,” trying to keep your sigh of relief inside. He hadn’t said you’d continue the conversation downstairs, hadn’t said anything about a timeout or a punishment. You might be ok. You might get off with just a lecture. You could handle an upstairs lecture—kneeling at Andy’s feet while he listed all the ways you’d disappointed him and everything you needed to do to be better. Sometimes you even got to stay fully clothed. Lectures were fine. Lectures were easy. As long as you got to stay upstairs, you’d be ok.

Without another word, he moved into the kitchen. You heard him opening and closing the fridge as you continued organizing the dishes into neat stacks to hopefully make cleaning up a little easier. He came back with a beer in his hand, moving through to the living room to watch the evening game. As he started to walk by the table, the movement drew your eye to something, his reflection caught in the shiny steel. The carving knife. Just lying there next to the turkey.

The knife block had sensors in it, just like all the doors downstairs or the front door of the house. You had to scan your wristband every time you needed to use a knife while cooking and it would send an alert to Andy’s phone, letting him know whenever you used one, for how long, and when you put it back. But the carving knife, he’d taken that out himself today. As the man of the house, he had to be the one to carve the turkey. And then he’d just left it there, forgotten about it. The carving knife.

As you stood there, staring at it, it was like all of the parts of yourself he’d worked so hard to turn off, suddenly came roaring back on. How much you hated the dress you currently wore. How exhausted you were after working in the kitchen all day without a single thank you. The lecture that you knew awaited you, being forced to kneel at his feet. All of your own holiday traditions that had been stolen from you so that you could accommodate his. Everything he’d taken from you. The rage bubbling up inside of you was cleansing. You felt it giving you new breath, new life. You felt yourself coming back.

You looked up at Andy as he continued to move, his back to you now. That perfect, broad expanse. You could see it so clearly. The way you’d bury that knife between his shoulder blades. You lunged across the table.

Andy spun around as soon as he heard you move, his bottle of beer slipping from his hand, it’s contents spilling everywhere. Somehow, in that instant, he saw what you were grasping for and lunged for it too. Oh god, he was so much closer to it. You'd timed it all wrong. You were stupid in your desperation and anger. Oh well. You'd already made the choice. There was no turning back now.

You threw yourself onto the table, arm outstretched, dirty plates beneath you, just as his hand wrapped around the handle of the knife. You let out a guttural scream as he threw it away from you and it clattered against the baseboards. 

A beat too late, you tried to crawl backward, your knees struggling for purchase on the tablecloth, plates crashing to the floor, but Andy had already grabbed your still outstretched arm, dragging you towards him as you flailed, trying and failing to grab onto anything that might help you. 

He pulled you over the edge of the table and you fell to the floor, landing harshly in a jumble, more plates falling around you. He loomed over you, face completely overtaken by rage. But it couldn’t compare to yours. You kicked out wildly, indiscriminately and you’d never felt more satisfied than when you landed a few hits to his shins and he grunted in pain. Your satisfaction was short-lived, however, as he recovered and reached down to wrap his hands around both your wrists, even as you struggled as hard as you could to get away from him. 

He didn’t say a word as he dragged you across the floor. That was fine. You had no problem filling the silence. “You fucking motherfucker!” you screamed, the frustration and terror and anger of the last several months finally finding an outlet. “I hate you! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna burn this house to the fucking ground!”

Your struggles kicked up a notch as he opened the door to the basement with one hand, the other now holding on to both of your wrists. “No!” you yelled. “You can’t fucking do this! I’m done pretending to be your perfect little wife! You can’t–”

He wasn’t gentle at all as he yanked you down the stairs. You had to pause your fighting and screaming as you fell, the breath knocked out of you. You tried to protect your head, tried to protect any part of your body you could as you hit every step. Your dress did nothing to help as it gathered above your waist. You were exposed and vulnerable. But what else was new? You were immune to it now, after being debased every single day for months.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his hold on you, using both hands to drag you again. Still, he said nothing. But you caught your breath and resumed your litany of hate. “You’re so fucking weak. You’re pathetic. Of course, you had to buy a wife. Who would love you willingly?” The carpet burned your skin as he dragged you across it, but you continued to struggle, continued to scream. Nothing would stop you now. “You’re disgusting. Embarrassing.”

He stopped in front of the door to the quiet room and you almost laughed. Did he really think this was just some little tantrum a time-out would fix?  Did he really not understand the rage and power that flowed through you now? Did he really think a few hours in the dark would quell this? No way. After everything you’d been through, everything you felt now, you could handle the quiet room.

He threw you in and closed the door behind you. You sank down into the darkness. This was fine. This was great. The darkness couldn’t hurt you.

You’d forgotten what it was like to have no understanding of the passage of time. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. Right? 

He would come get you soon. What would you do then? Attack him as best you could. The rage still coursed through you. You were done laying down for him.

It must be getting late. It’d already been evening when the guests left. You were so tired now. Exhausted. But you had to be ready when Andy opened the door.

You startled awake as the furnace whirred to life. You were slumped over against the wall, your face pushed into the cinder block. It felt grimy.

You didn’t remember falling asleep. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Where was Andy? Whatever tenuous grasp you’d had on what time it was was completely gone now. That was ok. Andy would come soon and you’d beat the shit out of him, and then you would know what time it was.

It was the hunger that hit you first, but the thirst hit you harder. You knew now that this was the longest he’d ever left you here. You’d never gone hungry like this before. Well. He would let you out soon. He had to.

Your stomach hurt with how hungry you were. Your throat ached. Would he just let you die down here? Was he that angry? So angry that he’d decided to cut his losses. Start over with someone new. Was starving to death better than your life upstairs? Or the basement? You honestly didn’t know.

You were sprawled across the floor, as much as you could in the small space. What was the point of being upright? You could barely even tell which way was up anymore. It was all just darkness.

Suddenly, you were hit by a sliver of blinding light. What was happening? It took you embarrassingly long to realize it must have been a slot in the door you’d never seen before. Then something slid through it. You blinked at it, trying to get your eyes to focus, trying to make sense of what you saw. Oh my god, it was food! You lunged for it and tried to pull the tray to you, but it wouldn’t budge. That was better anyway. You needed the light to eat.  

On the tray was a small plate of leftover turkey and green beans and a bottle of water, along with a small plastic fork. You went for the water first, downing it, and then scarfed up the food, not even tasting it. After a few minutes, on the other side of the slot, you heard an alarm go off, and the tray was pulled back, a few bites still on the plate. “Andy, wait!” you called out, but the slot slammed closed and you were in the dark again.

You didn’t have anything to do. You couldn’t remember the last time you had nothing to do. Before Andy brought you here. Evenings in your little apartment, watching TV and eating takeout, fucking around on your phone. You hadn’t done that, hadn’t even thought about doing it in months. 

When you first got here, when your list of chores felt insurmountable and ridiculous, you would’ve given anything for the chance to lay around and do nothing. But now, it didn’t feel right. You should find a way to be productive. Andy was going to be so disappointed in you.

You hated yourself for thinking it.

You tried to do some yoga. You were so stiff from laying on the floor, but it was too hard when you couldn’t see how much space you had and were too scared of hurting yourself on the furnace or hitting the wall. So you went back to doing nothing.

The worst thing about waking up in this room was that you had no memory of falling asleep. It was all just darkness. Maybe there was no real difference between sleeping and being awake. How could you even tell anymore?

Andy brought another meal. Well, you assumed it was him. There was no one else. But you didn’t see him. He didn’t say anything. The tray was pushed through the slot, you ate and drank as fast as you could, the tray was pulled away. You didn’t say anything to him either.

You were so fucking bored. You’d tried singing to yourself. Running through old movies you remembered watching on TV as a kid. Reciting passages from old books. You felt like you were running out of thoughts.

There’d been three meals. If you could count the meals, that was sort of like keeping track of time, right? Even though you had no idea how often he brought them. Still, it had to be something.

The furnace was going to drive you insane. That whirring, whirring, whirring. White noise that wouldn’t stop. So loud you were afraid that the noise was just inside your head now. Maybe the furnace wasn’t even on.

“Andy,” you called out when the slot opened. “Andy, please.” He didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

The timer must have gone off sooner this time. The tray was pulled back when you were only halfway done. You started crying as the slot started to slide closed. Your stomach felt too empty.

You realized your mistake after he was gone. You had to call him sir when you were in the basement.

You started talking to yourself. Just to hear your voice. Any voice. You didn’t have anything to say, but you just couldn’t deal with the silence.

It wasn’t worth it. You saw that so clearly now. What did you really think you’d gain? You were never going to kill him. You couldn’t even hurt him. You were never going to win and you’d lost even more by trying.

You couldn’t remember whether there’d been six or seven meals. You’d lost count. And they were all the same. Nothing differentiated them. There was nothing to hold on to. This was the one thing tethering you to anything real and you’d lost it. There was no getting it back. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying.

He was tired of you. He was done. He was the only thing you had in the whole world and you’d lost him. You’d fucked it up. You were going to rot away in the Quiet Room until you were nothing. There was no getting out.

You crawled over to the slot when it opened and put your head right in front of it, keeping your eyes closed to avoid the burn of the light. “Sir,” you pleaded, your voice raspy, “sir, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir. Please.” You were crying. You couldn't stop. You couldn't hide it. 

He paused before he pushed the tray through, but he didn't say anything. 

You were lying on the floor, trying to figure out whether you were awake or dreaming when everything was suddenly bathed in light. You must be dreaming. Oh, but would a dream hurt so much? You rolled onto your stomach and curled up in a ball to try to shield your eyes from the light. Wake up wake up wake up, you chanted to yourself.

And then– Then, as you were curling up, tighter and tighter, on the floor, someone touched you, lightly, gently on your back. When was the last time you’d been touched? You didn’t know. You started crying, even as you pressed up into the soft caress.

“Oh sweetheart,” someone said. An angel. But wait. You knew that voice. “Look at you,” Andy said, “we’ve both had a rough few days, huh?”

You slowly rolled back over, wincing harshly at the light. There he was, crouching over you. You squinted at him, trying to make out his features. You started to sit up, but it ached to use your muscles that way.

He reached out a hand to help you. “Go slow, honey,” he said, and his voice was so gentle. “Give yourself a minute to adjust.”

“Sir?” you rasped. Was he really here?

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as he carefully pulled you into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“How–” you blinked up at him, feeling so disoriented. “How long?”

“Too long,” he answered sadly. “But we both needed time to calm down, didn’t we?” 

He stroked your back, and you whimpered. It felt so good. You’d been alone for so long. You nuzzled into his chest, the tears still streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t– I shouldn’t have– I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. Please forgive me.”

“Oh honey,” he sighed. You wished that you could drink up his gentle voice after so much silence. “I know. I know. It was a hard day. I understand. I’ll forgive you. After your punishment, it’ll be like it didn’t even happen.” 

“Punishment?” you looked at him in horror. “But– This– I–” You’d already been through so much. How could there be more?

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice picking up a firm edge. “This was just a little timeout. For both of us. So that we could both calm down and think about what happened. You know I never want to punish you when I’m angry.”

“But I’m sorry,” you cried, grasping at his shirt. You didn’t think you could handle a punishment. You were afraid you’d break into a million pieces in that room.

“You tried to hurt me.” All of the gentleness was gone now. “You have to be punished so you learn.”

You barely nodded as you curled up in his arms, crying quietly. You’d been so stupid. So, so stupid. It was such a mistake.

“I’ll tell you what, honey.” His hand resumed its stroking, up and down, up and down your back. So gently. “If you’re very good for me, if you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can go right back upstairs when it’s done. We won’t have to spend any more time down here.”

“Really?” You’d been so afraid that you’d doomed yourself to months down in the basement again, even worse than before.

“Really. Neither of us wants to be down here, do we? We both want to be happy upstairs, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir. Please, please. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will be, sweetheart. Let’s go get it over with, huh? Then we can take a nice long bath to get all this grime off of you. Can you move? Can you get up?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled into his chest, but you didn’t make any effort to move. Not yet. You wanted to savor this for a few more moments. You knew that as soon as you got into the punishment room, all of the gentleness would be gone. He’d be the figure from your nightmares again. And you knew you deserved it. You were so stupid. But you needed a couple more minutes of his soft touches before you’d be ready.

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23 @foulpersonahandsvoid @alexakeyloveloki @spiderwebbedhearts

[theromanticrationalist]

Some Thoughts on Sheldon Cooper. . .

"Leonard, I am overwhelmed. Everything is changing and it is simply too much. I need to get away and think." | 7x24 The Status Quo Combustion

"Dr. Cooper, while you were away we came up with a solution that would allow you to change your field of study." "Wow. Pouting and running away actually worked! Yeah, I must say, that may not be the lesson you want to reinforce with me." | 8x02 The Junior Professor Solution

"I'm not leaving your world. I'm just talking about living across the hall." "I understand. Either way, I want you to know that I'm aware of how difficult I can be. So, I just want to say thank you for putting up with me." | 8x12 The Space Probe Disintegration

"It just seems silly to eat in two groups." "It doesn't seem silly if you think of that group as being lead by a big, evil baby." *a few moments later and everyone situated around the couch* "Well, isn't this nice. Sometimes the baby wins!" | 7x16 The Table Polarization

"Two years ago I got my driver's license." "What?! Why didn't you say anything?!" "I like being chauffeured around. It makes me feel important." | 10x16 The Allowance Evaporation

These are some of the moments where Sheldon shows a level of great self-awareness. I bring these moments up as showcasing that Sheldon's level of emotional maturity is much greater than his friends (and the writers of this show) give him credit for. One of the main problems is how the narrative often treats Sheldon as if he is completely incapable of growth, maturity, or taking care of himself. The truth couldn't be further from this. Even the narrative itself shows how much Sheldon changed during his relationship with Amy. The primary problem is that Sheldon's personality is so big and overwhelming, he doesn't HAVE to change because he is able to get everyone to do what he wants anyway, which he is fully aware of and exploits constantly. I mean if you are Sheldon, someone who has a mind sharper and faster than anyone you meet and prefer to have tight, tyrant-like control over your reality in order to feel safe and secure, pushing and manipulating people around to do your will is going to come naturally with the territory. The problem wasn't that Sheldon is a stunted adult who can't manage life on his own, but it is in the fact that Sheldon rarely got constructive and encouraging push back for his behaviors and choices. For when he did, which primarily came from Amy, he was fully capable of making corrections to his behaviors and expanding his worldview. It just ended up that he was either treated poorly and abusively or enabled and placated. That's why I really love the moment with Mrs. Davis when he comes back from his train-riding "sabbatical". Changing his field of study was a HUGE cataclysmic event in Sheldon's life and was one aspect that was causing him the greatest distress. Yet even in this reality-altering experience, Sheldon realizes that some of his responses to it weren't healthy, and makes a note of it with her, e.g. don't reward my childish behaviors because I will take FULL ADVANTAGE OF THEM. There was SUCH a missed opportunity there at the end of Season 7 going into Season 8. Penny realizing that she and Leonard needed to let Sheldon go, allowing him to make his own choices and do what he felt was right for him was a huge revelation for the characters. It was kind of a significant, paradigm shifting moment! I naively thought that they would build on that going forward in the show, but nah. Of course not. Any moments that would have allowed for such growth from all the characters were usually walked-back or dropped. It is such a shame, and makes the watching of this show frustrating for me. And yes! I know! I realize this is a sitcom! Why am I expecting such highbrow writing from something that is primarily supposed to be comedic and entertaining? Well, I think this subtext was implied in the narrative despite itself, especially with Jim Parsons. I think his acting conveys a lot of Sheldon's complexity through his body language and micro-expressions. There is SO MANY LAYERS to Parsons' performance, I just do not see how you couldn't possibly get wrapped up in dissecting them and having higher expectations of the narrative you are watching. Jim Parsons MAKES this show, otherwise what else would it offer?

[little-legend-baby]

4 years without The Professor…

Even before I was obsessed with Rush, I knew how important Neil Peart was to the world of music.

I knew that Neil Peart was hailed as one of, if not *the* greatest drummer of all time. I knew that his writing was some of the most profound lyricism in music, even if not commercially loved.

When I found out he passed, I was on a train back to college after winter break. And even though I wasn’t an obsessive fan yet, “When I heard that he was gone, I felt a shadow cross my heart” (Nobody’s Hero, 1993). I cried quietly in my seat, because I knew what a deep loss it was to music.

Now as a Rush obsessed person, I *truly* understand what a profound and unmatched talent and soul Neil was and always will be. His poetry is as moving as any book, his drumming as captivating as anyone I’ve seen.

And *come on*, look at that smile. So many think of Neil as the quiet and serious one, and while yes, in a way he was in comparison to Geddy and Alex, he wasn’t without his humor. He was *there* with The Bag™. He wrote an entire song about going bald. He participated in the shenanigans, and brought his own highbrow humor to the world.

I could go on forever and ever I think. But I love Neil Ellwood Peart. Such an incredible soul faced so much tragedy and heartbreak in his life, and yet brought so much light to so many. His end was unfair to him and to everyone. But as long as people still spin Rush records, his legacy will continue. And may every single generation discover his genius.

[adrianicsea]

movie ask game! 1985 and 2005 :)

hiii claire!! :)

i already shared my Ultimate Top Fave of 1985, so for my second pick for that year, i'll go with Real Genius. a very funny, relatively highbrow, and insightful entry into the 80s teen comedy genre, AND it has baby val kilmer. literally what else do you need.

for 2005, ALSO starring val kilmer, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is a favorite of mine!! it's very funny and an excellent satire/deconstruction of the neonoir mystery genre, while still functioning as a very compelling and tragic mystery in and of itself. gay perry was one of the first sympathetic and heroic gay characters i ever saw in a movie (yes, i watched kiss kiss bang bang probably too young), and he's still a very important character to me today.

[loveforskekgra]

Thoughts on ‘UniVerse a dark crystal odyssey’ (LONG POST AHEAD):

The dancers were talented. Let’s get that first- they were good dancers and clearly had put a lot of work into what they were doing so that, at least, I appreciate. I think they were let down by the repetitive and meandering choreography and strange costume and soundtrack choices. Given better material to work with I’m sure they could shine. The soundtrack was weird and droning (and at times downright harsh and unpleasant, ow my ears) and lacking any beat or rhythm so I wonder how the dancers were managing to keep in time. Costumes, incredibly unimpressive, literally just printed morph suits and occasionally a black hoodie and track pants (yes, really.)

Little to no references to the dark crystal at all. Aughra’s eye was a recurring image but it was just sort of floating there projected onto the mesh screen in front of and behind the dancers, not really doing much. There were some symbols and a single image of a Skeksis that I recognised from the ‘world of the dark crystal’ book. There was a scene I think (?) they were referencing the image of the mystics walking to the castle from the movie and a headdress that vaguely resembles a Skeksis. Other than that, there’s nothing of the dark crystal to be found.

The ‘message’ of the show was all over the place and felt very unclear. Wayne McGregor certainly had something to say, but I’m not sure I understand what it is, and I don’t really think he does either. Strange slam poetry (?) sections in between some of the dance parts where the topic shifted all over the place from the environment to race to gender politics, and none of it was really explored properly or handled well. He sort of like mentioned each thing then instantly went on to something else without really expanding on what he was previously saying. The imagery on the projections was very on the nose (the segment with a picture of what appeared to be a drawing of a dead bird that then gets covered with black goop- presumably meant to represent an oil spill- springs to mind) and seemed uninspired. At times it felt like they’d just taken pictures of videos or unrelated things to project onto the mesh screen to distract you while the dancers were backstage changing their costumes. And they continued to be distracting while the dancers were onstage. I missed whole segments of dance because I was busy looking at the projections wondering what exactly I was looking at or why there was a goldfish there.

Nothing of the environmental and political themes he was trying to touch on were anything that hadn’t been said a million times before (in much clearer and easier to understand ways). There was nothing that really struck me as being particularly thought provoking or new. The themes of oppression, overuse of natural resources and the importance of nature and caring for each other are all already present in the original dark crystal story- a proper adaptation would’ve touched on these themes, and in a way that is understandable and accessible. There was no need for all the strange modern dance trappings.

It felt at times like it was trying too hard to be artsy and highbrow and modern, almost as if there was the intention of looking down on the source material (and audience!!). It felt obnoxious and boring in its attempts to be abstract and artsy. The hour and ten minutes of the performance dragged. I was incredibly, incredibly bored and thinking how much i would rather be at home watching my dark crystal dvd and eating popcorn with my friend.

Ultimately, I think what makes me sad is that I feel Wayne McGregor has entirely missed what it is that makes people like the dark crystal. I don’t believe he is a fan and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s never actually seen the dark crystal. The removal of anything that gives the movie its charm and memorability is a huge shame. We love the characters and creatures and whimsical fantasy world of the movie! It’s our love of them that really drives the films message of caring for the planet and each other- if we didn’t love them and identify with them then we wouldn’t care what happened to Thra, and then be able to learn from the story and be able to view what’s happening in our world with Thra in mind. The movie presented the message in a way that was clear, easy to understand and accessible for its audience (notably, children. Despite the darker tone and large amount of adults in the fandom, it’s a childrens movie. An exceptionally good one). There were quite a lot of people that I saw who had brought their kids with them. We got about 1/3 of the way through before I noticed people with kids leaving. Imagine the disappointment of being a kid going to see what you think is going to be a fun fantasy romp with charming gelflings and scary Skeksis, only to be met with some strange modern dance with an awful soundtrack. Wayne McGregor has succeeded in completely alienating the source material’s primary audience.

And finally, I feel the advertising was deceptive- on purpose. I really do think that the dark crystal name was just put onto an unrelated modern dance piece in order to get fans of the movie to see it. There was notably little in the way of promotional material or photos- besides one video that shows precisely nothing- after the show was first announced and the summary that we were given for it was extremely vague. The ‘in association with Jim Hensons puppet company’ gave the idea that there were going to be puppets and it was all very much made out to be something that it absolutely isn’t. It feels like it was all a ploy to trick people into going to see something that they otherwise would’ve never even had an interest in. It’s not the dark crystal. It’s nothing to do with it. I think they should remove the name from the title to be honest. And it makes me worry for potential dark crystal projects in the future. Are we just fated for more failures and disappointments?

If I had to choose one word to describe this performance it would definitely be ‘disappointment’. If I were to choose two more they would be ‘confusing’ and ‘strange’.

[littlesixxwrites]

Proposal Preview

First draft of the MaM proposal below the cut

Hermione enjoyed listening to Draco read the bedtime stories. Everything she knew of him before they met was highbrow and sensual. This part of him, hidden from the public, was what she loved more than any. He was quite adept at impressions, but he created voices for each of the characters in the book. When the bubbles burst, he made little popping sounds that Scorpius emulated with a smile.

There was nothing better than watching the two of them together. Scorpius looked so much like his father, and he was slowly reviving the happiness inside of Draco. Hermione had seen it even in the few months they’d been together as a family. Draco smiled more, laughed louder, and he wasn’t afraid to dress a bit more … Well, her mother would use the word ‘feminine,’ but it was simply Draco enjoying fine fabrics and things that sparkled. If anything, Hermione hoped she had helped him embrace the parts of himself he’d pushed away for so long. At the end of the book, Draco read,

“Even with potions spilled all over the floor, the students promised to return tomorrow to learn some more.”

“Where’s the end?” asked Scorpius. He pointed to the lower corner of the right page and said, “Right here, Dean always puts ‘The End.’”

“I dunno, Scorp.” Draco feigned ignorance and said, “Perhaps there’s another page?”

Scorpius fiddled with the book before getting his finger beneath the page. He flipped to the next page and Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. Then another one. It felt like she was falling off a cliff because nestled into the back cover of the book was an engagement ring. Luna had drawn the three of them in her style on the opposite page with the written words:

Will you marry me?

Scorpius squealed in delight. He turned around to look at his father and hug him around the neck as Draco said,

“Hermione, when I’m looking back on my life, the happiest moments will be these. You, me, and our son together doing the simplest things. If you would do me the honour of becoming my wife, I promise never to forget how important it is to make time for all of us. You are the most tenacious, incredible, good-hearted person I’ve ever met. I am constantly in awe of your fearlessness, and your drive to advocate for a better world. If Astoria taught me anything, it was never to take a single moment for granted. It was to never wait to put our love in writing, to swear it in front of God and everyone we know. Because I love you, but more than that, you have made me whole again in a way no one else could. And, most importantly, you brought me back to my son. Hermione Jean Granger,” Draco hugged Scorpius just a bit tighter, “will you marry me?”

“Maman?” asked Scorpius, in a quiet voice.

Hermione managed to keep her voice steady when she asked, “Yes, baby blond?”

“It’s okay if you say no, but I hope you say yes. You make my dad happy, but you make me really happy, too.”

“Then how could I say no?” asked Hermione. She kissed Draco gently and whispered against his lips, “Yes. I will marry you.”

He grinned and asked, “Are you sure?”

“As certain as I’ve ever been. This is my family, Draco, and I have never been happier.”

“Put it on!” Scorpius managed to dig the ring out of the book and offer it up to Hermione. “It’s pink!”

Hermione laughed and offered her left hand so Scorpius could slide the ring onto her finger. He tried to place it on her middle finger so Draco deftly grabbed the ring and put it in its proper location. It was a bright pink stone surrounded by tiny diamonds.

“It’s a pink sapphire, about a hundred years old, my four-times great grandfather purchased this from Cartier. I think most women in the Malfoy line considered it a rather jaunty piece, but I figured if you’re going to be wearing a symbol of me then it should be incredibly ostentatious.”

“And beautiful.” Hermione looked down at the ring on her finger and tilted her hand a bit to watch it glimmer in the light.

[maneaterwithtail]

His monologue, at long long last, was appreciated

I think it was the first time he was driving himself.

Thing is I think he has determination and more than a little sass (how argues with smith)

But once in a comfort zone, oh man does he stick there.

I like he has a sense of indignation too. Particularly with others.

Part of the issue is he is taciturn and relatively hobbyless. Yes I know straight man to clown. But even those have 'quiet' hobbies. Squiward plays clarinet, collects stuff, ambitious to be highbrow.

Aside from "be professional and good at my job" and his work friends he spends key points ignoring he is pretty blank. I mean think about this.

First 4 episodes he is a MASSIVE focus for every single character not a deathdrive or Lulu.

We don't know his family, honwtown, career history, career goals, or anything about him. He isn't anticipating finding anyone in his homeland

He has trauma but no...desires well aside for things to go to normal. Maybe. And even that seems spurred by stuff.

Thing is all yhe pieces from old unit buddies, setting and more are there to sprinkle this in. And he nakes decisions. But fir so much time sitting on his thoughts didn't feel get them.

One telling outburst was him finding Smith and Lulu. Imdicating hiw much he had attached importance to Smith.

Thing is if the 3ish characters one I feel didn't have a full arc. Bravern learns to empathy, boundaries, and defines his desires in a healthy way. Smith becomes the hero he wishes and connects with man wished to from start. Isami just becomes like Smith.

Oddly it's the start not end I have problem with isami character arc wise. Maybe it's because made to be more realistic as to..broad but even there not fit with his own teammates or cast. Only comparable guy is black Commander . A tertiary character who at least emotes well or does a lot with his little so get his deal.

His being able to manage all the personalities and situation is...better.

Isami is more a puppet. At first hoped doing a bit. where knows and resists super robot protagonism out of raw disdain maybe if not trauma or...something like Hot Fuzz's Nicholas Angel. But did not get a start "origin" beyond setup utterly shattered by episode 2. So feels off as an experience...hard to say

I like to imagine that Isami is actually very competent at handling high stress workplace environments and resolving conflicts in his military role. He just comes off as a coward most of the series because he’s being forced into situations involving alien robots with fantastical powers and zero regard for the value of human life, the rule of law nor the Geneva conventions.

[stitchar]

Empurata Bee AU1:

Longarm/Shockwave is the new recruit to Intelligent Agency and heard about the rumors of a one-eyed Autobot cryptid that lives in the vents. (No one knows how old he is, but he's VERY OLD) Decided to befriend him.

AKA Local Intelligent Agent Befriends A One-Eyed Cryptid Living in Vents more at 7

I'm really out of practice in comic drawing. It's been a hot minute.

[deepspaceballet]

imagine the enterprise crew, while on a mission to vulcan, coming across some important highbrow (pun unintended) vulcans. once the vulcans are introduced to spock - and they immediately know who he is as they are very much aware of ambassador sarek and his family - they turn to kirk and just say “and are you s’chn t’gai james, the starfleet captain?” and jim tries (and fails) to not grin like an idiot as he confirms that yes, indeed, he is s’chn t’gai james. spock looks greener than usual and their whole crew is just so very confused. once the vulcans leave, mccoy asks kirk ���what the hell did the hobgoblins call you just now?” mccoy and the others half-expect it was a vulcan insult and they’re gonna have to kick some vulcan ass, until uhura, the one that can actually interpret vulcan pronunciation and recognized the name she’d only seen written before, says “isn’t that your family name, spock?” spock quietly confirms and jim’s face hurts from smiling. mccoy rolls his eyes while everyone else laugh as they realize that some vulcan dude just acknowlegded the most famous starfleet captain as sarek’s son’s husband and said captain is loving it a little more than he maybe should. spock still thinks it was rude as jim should be acknowledged by his rank while on duty (that is until jim tells him just how much he liked being referred to as a member of spock’s family; then spock maybe kind of likes that it happened too).

[paenling]

no ones saying you cant enjoy daniil? people like him as a character but mostly Because he’s an asshole and he’s interesting. the racism and themes of colonization in patho are so blatant

nobody said “by order of Law you are forbidden from enjoying daniil dankovsky in any capacity”, but they did say “if you like daniil dankovsky you are abnormal, problematic, and you should be ashamed of yourself”, so i’d call that an implicit discouragement at the least. not very kind.

regardless, he is a very interesting asshole and we love to make fun of him! but i do not plan to stop seeing his character in an empathetic light when appropriate to do so. we’re all terribly human.

regarding “the racism and themes of colonization in patho”, we’ve gotta have a sit-down for this one because it’s long and difficult. tl;dr here.

i’ve written myself all back and forth and in every direction trying to properly pin down the way i feel about this in a way that is both logically coherent and emotionally honest, but it’s not really working. i debated even responding at all, but i do feel like there are some things worth saying so i’m just going to write a bunch of words, pick a god, and pray it makes some modicum of sense.

the short version: pathologic 2 is a flawed masterwork which i love deeply, but its attempts to be esoteric and challenging have in some ways backfired when it comes to topical discussions such as those surrounding race, which the first game didn’t give its due diligence, and the second game attempted with incomplete success despite its best efforts.

the issue is that when you have a game that is so niche and has these “elevated themes” and draws from all this kind of academic highbrow source material -- the fandom is small, but the fandom consists of people who want to analyze, pathologize, and dissect things as much as possible. so let’s do that.

first: what exactly is racist or colonialist in pathologic? i’m legitimately asking. people at home: by what mechanism does pathologic-the-game inflict racist harm on real people? the fact that the Kin are aesthetically and linguistically inspired by the real-world Buryat people (& adjacent groups) is a potential red flag, but as far as i can tell there’s never any value judgement made about either the fictionalized Kin or the real-world Buryat. the fictional culture is esoteric to the player -- intended to be that way, in fact -- but that’s not an inherently bad thing. it’s a closed practice and they’re minding their business.

does it run the risk of being insensitive with sufficiently aggressive readings? absolutely, but i don’t think that’s racist by itself. they’re just portrayed as a society of human beings (and some magical ones, if you like) that has flaws and incongruences just as the Town does. it’s not idealizing or infantilizing these people, but by no means does it go out of its way to villainize them either. there is no malice in this depiction of the Kin. 

is it the fact that characters within both pathologic 1 & 2 are racist? that the player can choose to say racist things when inhabiting those characters? no, because pathologic-the-game doesn’t endorse those things. they’re throwaway characterization lines for assholes. acknowledging that racism exists does not make a media racist. see more here.

however, i find it’s very important to take a moment and divorce the racial discussions in a game like pathologic 2 from the very specific experiences of irl western (particularly american) racism. it’s understandable for such a large chunk of the english-speaking audience to read it that way; it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. although it acknowledges the relevant history to some extent, on account of being set in 1915, pathologic 2 is not intended to be a commentary about race, and especially not current events, and especially especially not current events in america. it’s therefore unfair, in my opinion, to attempt to diagnose it with any concrete ideology or apply its messages to an american racial paradigm.

it definitely still deals with race, but it always, to me, seemed to come back around the exploitation of race as an ultimately arbitrary division of human beings, and the story always strove to be about human beings far more than it was ever about race. does it approach this topic perfectly? no, but it’s clearly making an effort. should we be aware of where it fails to do right by the topic? yes, definitely, but we should also be charitable in our interpretations of what the writers were actually aiming for, rather than reactionarily deeming them unacceptable and leaving it at that. do we really think the writers for pathologic 2 sat down and said “we’re going to go out of our way to be horrible racists today”? i don’t.

IPL’s writing team is a talented lot, and dybowski as lead writer has the kinds of big ideas that elevate a game to a work of art, particularly because he’s not afraid to get personal. on that front, some discussion is inescapable as pathologic 2 deals in a lot of racial and cultural strife, because it’s clearly something near to the his heart, but as i understand it was never really meant to be a narrative “about” race, at least not exclusively so, and especially not in the same sense as the issue is understood by the average American gamer. society isn't a monolith and the contexts are gonna change massively between different cultures who have had, historically, much different relationships with these concepts.

these themes are “so blatant” in pathologic 2 because clearly, on some level, IPL wanted to start a discussion. I think it’s obvious that they wanted to make the audience uncomfortable with the choices they were faced with and the characters they had to inhabit -- invoke a little ostranenie, as it were, and force an emotional breaking point. in the end the game started a conversation and i think that’s something that was done in earnest, despite its moments of obvious clumsiness. 

regarding colonialism, this is another thing that the game is just Not About. we see the effects and consequences of colonialism demonstrated in the world of pathologic, and it’s something we’re certainly asked to think about from time to time, but the actual plot/narrative of the game is not about overcoming or confronting explicitly colonialist constructs, etc. i personally regard this as a bit of a missed opportunity, but it’s just not what IPL was going for.

instead they have a huge focus, as discussed somewhat in response to this ask, on the broader idea of powerful people trying to create a “utopia” at the mortal cost of those they disempower, which is almost always topical as far as i’m concerned, and also very Russian.

i think there was some interview where it was said that the second game was much more about “a mechanism that transforms human nature” than the costs of utopia, but it’s still a persistent enough theme to be worth talking about both as an abstraction of colonialism as well as in its more-likely intended context through the lens of wealth inequality, environmental destruction & government corruption as universal human issues faced by the marginalized classes. i think both are important and intelligent readings of the text, and both are worth discussion.

both endings of pathologic 2 involve sacrifice in the name of an “ideal world” where it’s impossible to ever be fully satisfied. in the Diurnal Ending, Artemy is tormented over the fate of the Kin and the euthanasia of his dying god and all her miracles, but he needs to have faith that the children he’s protected will grow up better than their parents and create a world where he and his culture will be immortalized in love. in the Nocturnal Ending, he’s horrified because in preserving the miracle-bound legacy of his people as a collective, he’s un-personed himself to the individuals he loves, but he needs to have faith that the uniqueness and magic of the resurrected Earth was precious enough to be worth that sacrifice. neither ending is fair. it’s not fair that he can’t have both, but that’s the idea. because that “utopia” everyone’s been chasing is an idol that distracts from the important work of being a human being and doing your best in a flawed world. 

because pathologic’s themes as a series are so very “Russian turn-of-the-century” and draw a ton of stylistic and topical inspiration from the theatre and literature of that era, i don’t doubt that it’s also inherited some of its inspirational literature’s missteps. however, because the game’s intertextuality is so incredibly dense it’s difficult to construct a super cohesive picture of its actual messaging. a lot of its references and themes will absolutely go over your head if you enter unprepared -- this was true for me, and it ended up taking several passes and a bunch of research to even begin appreciating the breadth of its influences.

(i’d argue this is ultimately a good thing; i would never have gone and picked up Camus or Strugatsky, or even known who Antonin Artaud was at all if i hadn’t gone in with pathologic! my understanding is still woefully incomplete and it’s probably going to take me a lot more effort to get properly fluent in the ideology of the story, but that’s the joy of it, i think. :) i’m very lucky to be able to pursue it in this way.)

anyway yes, pathologic 2 is definitely very flawed in a lot of places, particularly when it tries to tackle race, but i’m happy to see it for better and for worse. the game attempts to discuss several adjacent issues and stumbles as it does so, but insinuating it to be in some way “pro-racist” or “pro-colonialist” or whatever else feels kind of disingenuous to me. they’re clearly trying, however imperfectly, to do something intriguing and meaningful and empathetic with their story.

even all this will probably amount to a very disjointed and incomplete explanation of how pathologic & its messaging makes me feel, but what i want -- as a broader approach, not just for pathologic -- is for people to be willing to interpret things charitably. 

sometimes things are made just to be cruel, and those things should be condemned, but not everything is like that. it’s not only possible but necessary to be able to acknowledge flaws or mistakes and still be kind. persecuting something straight away removes any opportunity to examine it and learn from it, and pathologic happens to be ripe with learning experiences. 

it’s all about being okay with ugliness, working through difficult nuances with grace, and the strength of the human spirit, and it’s a story about love first and foremost, and i guess we sort of need that right now. it gave me some of its love, so i’m giving it some of my patience.

[greenleebuchanan]

Greenlee raised an eyebrow as she watched his... more than overdramatic display laced with the sarcasm she had quickly realized was his most prominent manner of speech. She scoffed when he flung himself back in his chair to conclude his performance. Leave it to Ominis Gaunt to put on such a display.

This side of him wasn't one that had anticipated--- being from what she understood to be such a highbrow family. Of course such families were very much inclined to put on dramatic displays-- quite frequently actually --- but those were usually rather genuine displays of their self-important disposition. Ominis simply did it for his own amusement it seemed.

"Honestly, I had pegged Sebastian for the most dramatic individual I've come across, but it seems I sold you short. His theatrics do not hold a candle to yours," she quipped as she gave him a side-eye, "it is no wonder you two are attached at the hip. Birds of a feather."

She listens as he affirms her suspicions. It made sense. Students from well-established families tended to have a less than fair tip of the scale in their favor in both the muggle and wizard world--- that was at least something the two worlds had in common. It was obvious that Ominis didn't particularly care for this fact about his life, at least not when it came to unequal punishment amongst he and the twins. She understood why--- no one wants to be the friend that avoids punishment whilst the others are punished for the same act. Such a thing ran the risk of creating a rift if one did not have a way to remedy it, after all.

A short laugh escapes Greenlee's lips at his implications regarding the Headmaster--- though they were more like simple facts. She did not have to be at Hogwarts all that long to realize that their headmaster only paid attention to what he deemed was worthy of his time, and most things simply did not seem to fall in that category--- least of all, students.

"Well, if it helps, I would be inclined to believe that he doesn't know the names of anyone that but those that he perceives would help his status, much less their faces, so you've at least got that..." she says this in a lowered voice, not inclined to run the risk of anyone else hearing lest they wanted to run off to the Headmaster. No one particularly liked him, per se, but she was sure there were students that didn't mind keeping him in the know if it helped them. She already had a detention awaiting her at the end of the day, she didn't need another tacked on.

"Yes," she muttered in reply, slumping back in her chair with her arms crossed, "Sebastian had the idea to go sneak into Professor Sharp's office for something... admittedly, I can't seem to recall what it was now nor why I agreed to it, but at the time it seemed like an easy feat since I had done-- anyways, clearly, it was not. I am pretty sure neither of us will be able to wield our wands for a while without discomfort with the amount of lines we will have to write..."

Oh, he had completely thrown her off from her ranting it seemed. As rude as it was of him to do so, he still found himself forming a slight smirk as she trailed off. Truthfully, Ominis hadn’t minded her complaints that much. He had always enjoyed listening to people talk, about anything, and especially when they took some of their time to speak to him. Not many did, considering who he was, but there was a fair amount of nice, openminded people in the four houses.

“And here I was, thinking people came to me with their troubles in hopes I would solve them for them. Now I feel like a big headed fool and the sudden lack of unimportance is truly dragging me into the dirt,” he replied dramatically and sighed while letting himself lean back against the backrest hastily. After a short moment of the pitiful act, Ominis’ huffed at Greenlee’s words and smiled once again.

“I have, as a matter of fact. Twice. In my first year and second, together with Sebastian and Anne, naturally. I should have been given more, since the three of us were as they say stitched together, but like you said… I have got connections.” He said importantly, though clearly sarcastic about it. Ominis did find it quite outrageous that he was so easily let off the hook while his two best friends had to endure whatever punishment came their way. He had, of course, argued for it but to no avail.

He hated being given special treatment just because of his father’s relation to Black. And why Black treated him like some serpent prince, he did not understand. His father didn’t care for him very much and most likely wouldn’t care if he was given detention or not. But Black seemed to think he was doing the Gaunt a friendly favour.

However, these days his life wasn’t as adventurous as it had been before. Nowadays, there were no reasons for detention on his part. Though, he had to admit… He missed the fun times. The harmless wrong-doings and rule breaking. He missed Anne. He missed Sebastian. The twin brother was still in school, but it wasn’t the same anymore. Ominis sometimes felt like he’d lost him completely.

“Our dear Headmaster refuses to allow the teachers and prefects to punish me. He was a down right mess after he found out a Gaunt had been given detention.” An expression of amusement grew on his face, but he shook his head. “My guess is that he doesn’t even know what I really look like. Sometimes he even forget I’m blind.”

“What are you doing for your detention then? Lines?”

[astrovian]

Richard Armitage interview on BBC Radio Somerset for Uncle Vanya (25/10/20)

Full transcript under cut

Now the moment you’ve all be waiting for, particularly if you’re female – some proper eye-candy on this show okay, not just me. ‘Kay, some proper stardom. Richard Armitage has been in so much television okay, let’s give you a bit of an idea as to what he’s been in over the years. Of course, he started off in North & South back in 2004. He was Lucas North in the British TV drama Spooks. He was in Castlevania, he was in Robin Hood. He’s done so much work for The Royal Shakespeare Company. But for lots of you, you’ll have seen him in Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit. Here’s him talking a little bit about his role.

[Clip from The Hobbit interview – I play a character called Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King Under the Mountain. There’s a direct descent from the royal line, which is myself, Thorin, and Fíli and Kíli, who are nephews by my sister]

Now, I’ve never seen The Hobbit, but whenever I think of Richard Armitage, it’s always- he was the guy in the last couple of episodes of The Vicar of Dibley.

[Clip from The Vicar of Dibley]

Brilliant, from Dibley to the valleys of New Zealand. Fantastic. Really pleased we can say we can speak to Richard Armitage on the show this afternoon to talk about his brand new film. Good afternoon, Richard. Thanks for joining us on the Sunday show. How are you?

I’m very good. How are you?

I’m great, thanks. Now, I say good afternoon, but you’re in New York, so it’s good morning to you over there.

Good morning. Yes.

Now you’ve done so much TV and film it’s ridiculous. If I sat here and listed out all the stuff you’ve done, we’d be here all day. However, we’re chatting about the latest one. Am I saying it right – Uncle ‘Van-ya’ or ‘Va-nya’? I’ve always said ‘Va-nya’.

You can say either, I mean a lot of the actors in our play were sort of from the North or from Ireland, and so we were calling him ‘Van-ya’. Sort of has a nicer ring to it, doesn’t it?

Yeah, let’s go with Uncle ‘Van-ya’. Yeah, now this is the-

Uncle ‘Van-ya’.

Now this is on Tuesday, you can see this from Tuesday onwards. Give us a bit of backstory. You were doing this as a play, but then Covid hit and it all had to change, is that right?

Yeah, we were in the middle of a, of a sixteen-week run and we’d-, we got through about ten weeks, and then we came in on a Monday morning and theatres were closed and we, we all had to go home. But it was something that we knew was coming, obviously Broadway had closed the week before us, and uh, so the chance to come back, even in a really still very difficult working environment, to, to sort of re-stage the play for film was something I think we were all incredibly grateful for.

Because not every play’s doing that – lots of plays have closed and we don’t know when they’re gonna re-open. But it must be a great thing to have because not every play was having that, were-, you know some of them were still just waiting for their moment to open up again.

Yes, and I mean National Theatre Live and Digital Theatre, they do film theatre, but they usually do it with a, with an audience in place, and that’s part of the, the thrill of it. But we had to- or, Sonya Friedman and her team had to sort of re-imagine what it might be like without an audience, and so this is a kind of hybrid film really, it-, we’re still in a theatre, but we’re much more kind of involved in the play and the camera comes into the stage and we see a little bit more than a regular production. But yeah, I feel very lucky that we were able to do this.

So it’s not like if you, if we had gone and seen it before it closed we’re obviously sat there looking on, but in this, in this version, the camera’s on the stage with you, you’re pretty much right in with the action, aren’t you?

You’re right in there, and I think that’s one of the, one of the y’know, unusual experiences, that that’s often not possible because you can’t, y’know, disrupt an audience’s viewpoint, so we tend, y’know, we tend to see theatre and hear an audience. Which, we lose the sound of an audience and that was very important with this play because the play is a comedy and y’know, the audience participation is, is really quite important. But it’s still a-, an interesting experience without the audience. In fact, there’s this sort of sadness for the audience’s lack, y’know.

Your character, you’re Astrov, is that right?

Yeah, I am. I’m the doctor.

Tell me a bit about him. What’s he like?

Well, he’s a bit of an outsider to this, to the family. Um, he’s, um, turned to drink because he is traumatised by losing patients, um, he’s working in a, in a region that’s suffering from an epidemic. At the same time, he’s recognising that his small corner of the world is being depleted environmentally, and so he’s, he’s, he’s an environmentalist. He’s planting trees and trying to sort of sustain his natural habitat, and he has a theory as to what, y’know, why people are sick and why our society is sick. And so, in terms of relevance, I think it, it sort of rang a lot of bells. Um, but he, y’know, in terms of his journey through the play, he finds love. Y’know, he talks early on in the play about not feeling anything because he’s been so battered down by his, his work, but he finds love and, um, is rejected. And you know, that’s the tragedy of Chekov, is that everyone’s in love with the wrong person.

And Chekov plays are very well-known, and they’re incredibly written as well. For you as an actor, to say you’re doing Chekov in the West End, or in this case in the cinema, that must be wonderful.

Yeah, it always sounds very kind of, um, highbrow, but Chekov didn’t write that many plays, and he’s also – y’know, he was a doctor as well himself. So there’s always a doctor in his plays. He writes about people, and I think that’s what attracts actors to this work. He doesn’t, he’s not so focused on the plot, he’s very much about the human experience and how we attract and repel each other. And he’s also a great purveyor of comedy and, y’know, finding fun with our, our flaws, and I think people will watch this after living in lockdown for six months, watching these people in a house that can’t get away from each other and are, y’know, ripping shreds, tearing shreds off of each other and, and kind of going out of their heads, and I think audiences will understand what Chekov was all about.

And this is available from Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, but you’re over in New York, so are you on the next project already, or are you doing something over there?

No, this is, this is where I, I live when I’m not working. But I’ll be back in, in England next year, I’m working on another Netflix show, so that will be good.

Now, when I said that Richard Armitage was coming on, it was- oh, the ladies, they go mad you know, ‘cause you’re so damn good-looking. And all these people, they’re on about the blimming Hobbit and all that sort of stuff, which is fantastic. But for me, do you know what thrills me most about you?

Go on.

You’re the guy that married Dawn French in The Vicar of Dibley. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind-

*Laugh* I knew you were gonna say that.

I know that for a lot of people it’s The Hobbit, and I know how big those sort of things are, and I know how good this, this new film is, but for me, you say ‘Richard Armitage’, he’s the guy who was nearly cheated on Dawn French.

Thanks for that.

No, not on-

He wasn’t cheatin’ on her.

He wasn’t, but she thought he was. But you’ve done so much-

Maybe they’ll re-run it at Christmas, who knows.

Oh, they re-run it all the time, Vicar of Dibley. Can’t move for it.

Do they?

Oh, they can’t move for it. UK Gold, it’s on every half hour. I hope you’re getting royalties for all these repeats.

I do too! I didn’t know it was on.

Oh, it’s on all the time. On all the time! But when you, when Covid’s out of the way as such, do you go back on stage with this, or has that sort of run its course now as a play, and you’re just gonna, it’s new life is now in the cinema?

I, yeah, I don’t think we’ll get the chance to go back, and I think that’s to do with the theatre is now being handed over to the fantastic David Tennant who’s gonna perform there-

Of course.

And the set is gonna be taken away, so I think this was a last chance to, to sort of discover the, this play. But I’m thrilled it’s on film, y’know. Film is forever, so…

That’s a good thing. I will just- if I don’t do twenty seconds on, twenty seconds on The Hobbit, the people will go mad. Great thing to be involved in, is it still something people ask you about?

It’s massive, I mean it was such a huge part of my life as well. Life-changing, y’know, going to New Zealand and working with one of my cinematic idols, y’know, Peter Jackson and that whole cast was, was phenomenal, and y’know, one of my favourite childhood books, so I, I couldn’t have asked- it was a dream come true really. And I, uh, still have incredible memories of that time.

So, Uncle Vanya, okay, is out from Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, but to be honest with you-

.com!

I’ve just been doing some googling, and if you just type in to any search engine ‘Uncle Vanya’, it comes up as the top listing. I mean there’s some great reviews for it as well-

Brilliant! And have you been to the cinema in this time?

I haven’t!

Are you getting out and going?

No, I haven’t been, that’s what I’m thinking, I should go and do it.

Give it a shot! I’ve done it, I did it a few times while I was there, and y’know, if you do obey all the rules and let the cinema take, y’know, do what you’re ‘sposed to do, wear the mask, it’s fine. It feels like normality. I mean, it’s like a Tuesday afternoon when there’s not that many people in there, but it’s still, y’know, still worth it.

I’m not minding that you see, ‘cause you’re guaranteed-

No.

-not to be next to someone who’s gonna be eating their popcorn in your face.

Chewing their popcorn.

Yeah.

Exactly.

That’s it. Or you get the couple in the back getting off with each other. I’m quite glad to be on my own there watching.

*Laugh*

That’s absolutely fine.

Is that what happens in cinemas in Somerset there?

Oh, it does, it does. Not-

*Laugh*

-not as much as I’d like. Well, look, Richard, it’s been a pleasure to speak to you, you are a gentleman, and I’ll give you a big plug again, Uncle Vanya comes out on Tuesday, unclevanyacinema.com, the reviews are great, it’s got five stars everywhere. Thanks so much for your time.

Thanks Andy.

[oikawa-tuwu]

Study (gn!Reader x Akaashi)

Rated G, 1.4k words

Not Home for the Holidays Masterlist

“I can’t find my leather briefcase.”

You were dusting in the study when he approached you, one of your new guests, with the polite manner and glasses.

“Excuse me,” he said, softly. “Is there someplace where I can work? Just a desk and some quiet would be perfect.”

“Actually,” you say, and set down the feather duster you were using. “Right here you can.”

It had been a difficult decision to keep the study, a little room with dark wood and packed full of bookshelves. After all, keeping it meant there would be one less bedroom, and that meant less income for the business. But, in the end, you kept it as it is, citing that it would be a good escape for doing the more monotonous business aspects of your job, or for instances like this.

There’s a desk in the corner, tucked between two bookshelves, and you gesture to it. Your guest sighs, and thanks you, and hauls his luggage over to it, so you take that as your cue to leave and continue dusting in another room.

A few minutes later, dusting done, you pass by the study once more. However, you hesitate by the open doorway. There’s a sound coming from the room, like the sound of someone mumbling and muttering to himself. It’s hushed, frantic, so you decide to check on your guest to make sure he hasn’t worked himself into an early grave. You’ve seen too many young professionals check in for some peace and quiet and an escape from their work life, only to be knee-deep in papers and emails a few hours later. Best to check on him now, you figure, rather than finding a limp body to drag to dinner in a few hours, so you lean against the doorframe and take in the scene: your guest, holding his head in his hands, muttering something to himself over and over again, his luggage, open to the world, clearly rummaged through, pens and highlighters and laptop accessories scattered about.

“Everything alright in here?”

He jumps at the sound of your voice. He turns to face you, and, having taken off his glasses at some point during his obvious breakdown, you can see the bags under his eyes and his frantic expression unhindered.

“I can’t find my leather briefcase,” he says.

“And this briefcase is important?”

“I’m an editor and everything I was supposed to edit while on this vacation was in that briefcase. So yeah. Important.”

Anxiety, apparently, is contagious, because now you’re also worried for this man, that familiar unease settling in your gut. “Where was the last place you saw it?”

Your guest fiddles his fingers, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. It’s strange seeing this juxtaposition, seeing him go from a man that looked so well put together before with his neat sweater, polite words, well-styled hair, to him now. His hair, sticking a little strangely to one side, probably from running a hand through it, the top button on his collared shirt under his sweater undone.

“I was carrying it in my luggage, but I took it out on the train to start on some paperwork… I might have left it on the train or I might have left it at the coffeeshop I went to after the train or in the taxi I took to get here from the coffeeshop-”

“Let’s go, then.”

The man blinks, pausing for a brief second, before saying, quite flatly, “What?”

“I have a car,” you say. “If these papers are so important, let’s go track them down. Or I have a fax machine-”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I’m supposed to be the one keeping Tenma on track, and if I have to ask him to re-fax everything, he’ll hold that over me for weeks.”

“Then let’s go.”

Your guest blinks again, but this time, you can see a decision being made somewhere in that brain of his.

“Let’s go,” he repeats, sliding his glasses back on his face. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up in your car, driving down the road in silence, with Akaashi Keiji in your passenger seat.

He introduced himself, somewhere in between finding your keys and scraping a layer of snow off your windshield, so at least now you know his name. Unfortunately, his name is the only thing you know about him.

Hopefully he doesn’t try to murder you.

You glance over at Akaashi again. He’s looking out of the window, not at you, only the tight frown on his lips and impatient finger-fidgeting giving away how worried he really is.

Feeling your gaze, Akaashi glances over at you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you’re about to murder me.”

Akaashi’s lips quirk into a little smile. “If I did, I wouldn’t have a ride back to the inn. Consider yourself safe.”

“That’s a relief,” you say, half as a joke, half not. “So, you said you’re an editor? What do you edit? Anything I might have heard of?”

“Maybe. Zombie Night Zom’bish?”

The name rings a bell, but no plot or characters come to mind, so it's safe to assume that's probably one manga you decided to pass on.

“Sounds familiar, I haven’t read it though.”

“That’s probably for the better,” Akaashi mutters, and for some reason that makes you snort. “Tenma is a good mangaka, don’t get me wrong, it’s just…”

“Not exactly highbrow?”

Akaashi nods, albeit a little hesitantly. “Let’s just say I’m glad that it’s ending soon.”

And just like Zombie Night Zom’bish, it looks like your trip might be ending soon, because just a second later you pull into the parking lot of the taxi service, putting the car in park outside the entrance. Akaashi, in his usual polite nature, thanks you, before sliding out of his seat and heading towards the entrance to check if they happened to have his briefcase.

Apparently it’s not there, because Akaashi gets back into the car empty-handed and frowning.

The coffee shop is next, a slightly longer trip, so you debate where to turn on some music to help with any awkward silences. Thankfully, your worries are unfounded, because you aren’t short on conversation. While you wouldn’t describe Akaashi Keiji as talkative, necessarily, he doesn’t seem to be not not talkative, either. He answers your questions politely, maybe in less words than you might have, but he also asks a few of his own, too, and as you approach your destination, it feels less like a weird Uber situation and more like two friends sharing a ride together.

“So after the zombies is volleyball? Why volleyball? I feel like that’s a bit of a tone shift.”

Next to you, Akaashi smiles, and you start to think that maybe his smile should be labelled as a driving hazard, because you’d much rather be staring at it than the road in front of you. “Tenma and I both played in high school,” he says, unaware of your plight. “So we both have our reasons for caring about the sport.”

“Were you any good?”

Akaashi makes a noise that can’t exactly be categorized as words so much as a fluctuating tone. A sound, in your personal experience, that is made when someone wants to say yes, but doesn’t want to sound cocky about it. “My team was good at least. We made it nationals somewhat consistently. My best friend actually ended up going professional and is on the national team now.”

“Damn, I didn’t know I had a celebrity in my car.”

Akaashi laughs. It sounds different than his earlier laughs. A little less contained, a little more surprised. A little less… polite.

A hint that there’s something more there, something underneath that layer of professional courtesy and courteous greetings.

What else, you wonder, is lurking just below that surface.

The coffee shop doesn’t have the papers either, and your last destination takes a disappointingly short time to get to, just down the street. Akaashi returns from the train station with empty hands as well, as slides into the passenger seat with a disappointed sigh, muttering something about blackmail and faxes.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your briefcase,” you say, as you turn the car engine over to head back home. “We made a trip out for nothing.”

Akaashi makes a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. He starts to say something, but hesitates. A second later, he tries again, a cautious, “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

You look over at him, and you see he’s already looking at you, a little smile on the corner of his lips. Not his polite smile. Something truer, more comfortable.

“After all,” he continues. “I got to talk with you.”

Hi hi hi sorry this is two days late. Fun headache/earache things making it hard to get writing done, blah blah blah. Thanks for reading, I’ll see you on Christmas day for Oikawa’s!

[gaygerwig]

continuing my goodreads as tumblr thing, which i think i;ll just be doing now (tagged as books)...: kyle chayka’s “longing for less” is good! it’s less cultural commentary, which is what i thought it would be, but it’s sorta a relief it isn’t, esp after reading his recent essay in the nyt mag which Was minimalism-cultural-commentary.. and personally i just dont need that in my life rn. no articulated/real reasons, just not wanting that rn (also i hate that cultural critics have to write about the internet/memes/ext.. it’s exhausting like it makes sense, but :(). anyways this book just covers minimalist art (agnes martin, a whole lot abt donald judd -- so much so that i finally gave in and requested “i love dick” from the library lol) + minimalist music (i learned abt a new musical artist, Julis Eastman, and i love “Stay On It”), as Buddhism/Japanese philosophy. sometimes his writing will be randomly bad - like when he starts listing things? but otherwise good! loved the font it was written in (yes that’s important!) 

loved this part (written after he visits a Japanese philosopher Shuzo Kuki’s grave): “I found myself speaking aloud, almost without thinking. What I said into the air was something like this: I admired the work Kuki had left behind. I admired his commitment to beauty, where he found, whether in structures of philosophy or the humble swatch of fabric on the limb of someone beloved, a material more romantic for being mundane and at the edge of notice. Time wears away all those manmade symbols until their roots are exposed and it becomes clear that they are the same--emanations of a fundamental spirit, no matter how highbrow or low, abstract or literal. Kuki collected a particular feeling, minor yet precious, and pressed it between pages like a spring flower so that I could access it almost a century later and feel moved by it. By chance it had reached me as it would reach future readers, translated into other languages, analyzed, imprinted in our collective cultural heritage, belonging to no one in particular but available to anyone who looked for it. The transmission may never be perfect but such beauty can only be found within incompleteness, the gaps that remain. I wondered if I would ever return to that cemetery in Kyoto and how different the world might be next time, except for that one stone marker like an axis around which everything spins. When I left, the tears running down my face turned sharp and cool.”

[thehappyscavenger]

Books read in January 2021

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

I am so mad I never heard of Carter before 2020 but last year she kept popping up everywhere and I decided to give her a shot. The Bloody Chamber is a rich gothic maximalist retelling of classic fairytales. Just beautiful, beautiful writing. Loved every inch of it. It’s a very short book but took me a while to read just so I could savour every word. Highly recommend. 

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry 

This book was kind of baffling. I heard it was a surprise best seller so I thought at least it would be plotty and fun but it was this weird mix of almost literary highbrow writing but not quite and then really interesting characters that don’t do anything or go anywhere. Set in Victorian England there’s a ton of characters but it mostly focuses on a recently widowed tomboyish woman who takes up amateur palaeontology and ends up moving to this small village because of a local legend there is a serpent there which she thinks might be an undiscovered dinosaur. IDK there’s a steamy subplot where she has an emotional affair with a married guy but the book is basically a half formed wreck of a bunch of interesting ideas and tropes stuck together in a way that never really amounts to anything. It’s not terrible but I wouldn’t recommend it either. 

The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton

Botton writes very pleasantly and the whole book is basically one mid-length essay about how nice architecture can be and how pleasing it is to live in beautiful places. Not a lot of depth to this really but it was an enjoyable way to pass the time. Also was kind of disappointed the pictures are all in black and white. Colour is important with architectural harmony too!

Hard Rain Falling by Don Carpenter

Well I’m back to my beloved NYRB Classics and yes, I found another gem. Would never have picked this one up but I found a group of other NYRB Classic devotees and they rated this one very highly. This started out a bit slow (TBH most NYRBs do) but I was bowled over by the book. Set over a 30 year period it follows the life of an unfortunate orphan who falls into juvenile delinquency and prison. Lots of slurs and swears in this but Carpenter is a master at handling his material and I just loved the characters he created and the matter of fact way he treated them. The final third is kind of a mess but overall I was incredibly impressed with this book and will try to hunt down more Carpenter in the future. 

[catherineflowers29]

1, 2, 9, 14 for the "Me Without You" series.

Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Madness? Masochism? Haha that’s a hard one, I knew it would be controversial when I thought of the general concept as this fandom is very much a positivity-centric one. People tend to react quite angrily when you step outside that, as I found when I wrote Queensguard. But at the time I was really struggling to come to terms with season 8 and as much as I love a good fix-it, nothing scratched that itch in quite the right way for me. So I decided to do it myself!

2: What scene did you first put down?

I write chronologically, so the first thing I wrote was Brienne’s entry in the White Book, but the first one I thought of was the one where she sleeps with Addam that first night at the farm, that sense of liberation in disconnecting her sexual self from Jaime. Originally, I had planned to make it the maester she shagged, but at that point I wasn’t sure about writing an OC like that so I chickened out and did the next best thing, everyone’s favourite near-as-dammit OC, Addam Marbrand!

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Yes! But I won’t go into details because once I’ve finished I’m going to do a Brienne Without Jaime Reboot and write it!

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Other than the fact that I’m a glutton for punishment? Probably this isn’t really highbrow enough to have a moral to the story, but it is important to me to write stories that reflect the fact that women are allowed to be angry and that the burden of forgiveness isn’t something we have to accept as our lot. I absolutely loved how hard Gwendoline Christie went in how upset Brienne was when Jaime left. I thought it was a really intense, honest choice and it didn’t let us as viewers shy away from what a devastating thing it was that he had done to her.

Thank you @seethemflying!