#also someone just told me one of places from the Ballads movie was shot in our city!! i'm shook lmao

[manny-jacinto]

THE HUNGER GAMES: CATCHING FIRE 2013 | dir. Francis Lawrence

[mistywaves98]

yfsdtydcstshegwsvjhgv hear me out hear me out,,,, yandere!scara controlling reader like he did Haypasia but instead of just making her follow him, he turns the reader into his personal cumdump- reader tries oh so hard to fight back, watching as if its a movie as her body is used as a fucktoy for the ex-harbringer- but the thing is, after a while of this, the reader begins to believe everything he says, that her only purpose in life is to bring him pleasure and becomes scara's perfect obedient little pet <3

-super duper cool anon

This is such a juicy idea anon!

Edit: I think I strayed a bit from what the ask said, sooo uhh, really sorry about that anon 😬😔

✧･ﾟ:* Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ¡Warnings!: Not proofread, Yandere themes (but not that intense), Non con, Degradation, Lots of repetition of words, collaring, rough sex, Mean! Scaramouche, Kidnapping, I think that's it!

✧･ﾟ:* Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

✧･ﾟ:* Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

As another one of the scholars who dedicated their lives to trying to connect their consciousness to Irminsul, that is what you spent all of your time doing. Yes, you knew of the tales of what happened to most of those who did manage to accomplish such a task but your desire for the kind of knowledge you could potentially gain blocked out any protests against your actions.

One time you actually saw something while meditating, visions of some sort and although they were blurry and barely distinguishable, it excited you. Since then, you've been training hard, hoping to experience that again.

You heard from somewhere that the Palace of Alcazarzaray was a good place to practice your meditation, so that's where you could be found as the days followed. As you meditated more and more, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your goal, it was only a matter of time, you told yourself. However, you also realized that during the rare times when you weren't meditating, you felt dazed and unfocused and often times you swore you saw something, or glimpses of someone. Though this worried you to a very small extent, instead, you thought you just needed to work a little harder. Eventually it got to a point where you spent all your time meditating, evoking worry from your relatives. In fact, the only thing that stopped you from meditating full time was them coming to 'snap you out of it' as they said. This annoyed you very much and although you knew they meant well, you were too close now and you had already accepted the risks this journey was accompanied with.

So, taking a small choice of possessions, you went to a remote, isolated part of the forest where you would meditate for days on end, not sleeping, eating or drinking. Strangely enough, your body seemed fine with it too, you weren't fatigued at all, it was just the haziness and hallucinations.

Now you were sitting on the floor of the cave, face relaxed but at the same time fixed with an expression of concentration. You focused....and focused.....and focused.....

Yes....

You could feel it, just a little more....

Your eyes suddenly shot open.

Scanning your surroundings you immediately realized something was off. The earth seemed to be layered with a gray tint and there was someone standing right in front of you with their back turned.

"Have...I...finally done it once more? Is....my consciousness.... connected to Irminsul?" You hesitantly ask, "Hmph. Not even a 'hello' at least? I expected better from my first follower."

What? What is he talking about? But wait.... He seems familiar..."Who...are you?" It's difficult to talk, your mind feels heavy and your vision is blurring momentarily. "Me? They call me Scaramouche or 'the Balladeer.' I am a member of the eleven fatui Harbingers but soon I will be known as the god of Sumeru. For now, however, you will address me as 'master,' understood?" He turned around and you were met with two purple eyes glaring down at you. The Harbingers? You've heard of that before, back when you were in the Akademiya, they're from Snezhnaya, right?

Scaramouche's voice brings you out of your thoughts,"I said, 'is that understood?' " "U-uh, yes....master..." His frown turns into an expression of smugness. "Good, I suppose you're pretty baffled by the situation you've found yourself in, but I'll have some mercy and explain it to you."

Your eyes widen when he reveals that he had been watching you ever since you had that experience with the indescribable visions. Those were...his memories? And apparently he's going to become a god? And he has chosen you as his first follower? "Why, you may ask? Well, no one has ever managed to connect directly to my consciousness before, so I took this as a sign. A sign that you are the chosen one." Huh, so you didn't connect to Irminsul after all and instead you're peering into the consciousness of one of the Harbingers? This information is hard for your now unstable mind to process. It hurts...You bring a hand to your aching forehead and try to soothe the pain. "...Can't...focus.."

Suddenly, a hand grips your jaw and tilts your head up so that you make eye contact with him,"You look so dumb right now, but it's alright, you won't need to think much from now on." You gasp as he kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue into your open mouth. His hands grab both of your wrists in a painful grip as he shoves you into the ground, lips still connected. You try struggle under his grip, only to find you can barely move. You try breaking the kiss but not only does he push harder, you can't even move your head and when he pulls away, you cringe at the strings of saliva between you two.

"Why...?" Is all you can manage as you gasp for breath,"Don't ask questions, all you need to know is that you are going to be my little stress toy from now until the day you die." His tone is snappy and you shut up at once, mind hazy. Scaramouche looks as your flushed face and chuckles darkly,"Your mind is weak, you can't even think straight, can you? And without the ability to properly process things you leave your body in a very vulnerable state, don't you know that? Hehe, I'm going to have so much fun with you..." He was right, your mind was under so much strain during your intense meditation sessions, now you don't have the brain to fight back.

His hands let go of your wrists and began to trail down your body, stopping to cup your breasts. You couldn't help but moan as he massaged the soft flesh through your clothes. Then, without warning he tore your top apart, exposing the white bra confining your chest. He made quick work of that two and as soon as the piece of fabric fell to the ground, his fingers went up to flick your now-hard nipples. Suddenly he gave them both a particularly harsh tug, grinning when you yelped in pain. With one hand playing with your left breast, he used his free hand to hike up your obnoxiously long skirt.

"You don't even wear a pair of shorts under this? Such a whore." He smirked at the help you let as as he smacked your pussy. You bit your lip as whimpers threatened to leave your throat as he used his slender fingers to circle your clothed clit. "Please....stop..." "Stop? When you are this wet? Just admit it, you're getting off on your god fucking you." "No...I—" You gag as Scaramouche stuffs three fingers deep down your throat "Stop talking and suck if you know what good for you."

When he finally decided you're wet enough, he slipped your panties off and pocketed them despite your protests. He then flips you unto your stomach before taking his cock out of the confines of his pants,"Now we move on to my favourite part."

A ragged scream is ripped from your throat as he immediately bottomed out inside of you. The situation doesn't get any better when he starts moving right after, barely giving you time to adjust to his size. His pace is fast and his thrusts are brutal, your body rocks back and forward with each slam of his hips. Your own hips feel bruised from the grip he has on them. The burn of his cock abusing your insides has tears streaming down your face and choked out sobs and moans leaving your mouth. A sadistic smile is plastered across his face, clearly enjoying your discomfort and pain,"You look so pretty with tears flowing down your face—hah—you feel so good, these virgin walls are squeezing me so tightly. Yes, cum of my cock, on your lord's cock and show me that only I can pleasure you like this."

Until that moment you didn't even realize you were getting closer to orgasming but you did as he said and the knot in your stomach snapped as you released all over him with a cry. That didn't stop Scaramouche from continuing to fuck you though, his pace barely faltered and his thrusts were just as hard as before,"Please—ngh—stop...no—more..." "Shut up. Your master hasn't had his pleasure yet and you will take everything he gives you until he's satisfied."

He then proceeded to bury his teeth into your neck, biting down so hard the skin broke, causing blood to leak from the wound. You shiver as his tongue darts out to lick a long stripe up your neck, gathering the warm liquid on it in the process. The way his cock is pistoning in and out of you has you weakly clawing at the dirt beneath. You continue to helplessly moan as his breathing gets more ragged and heavy, he must be close. Said assumption proves to be right when you suddenly feel a burst of hot liquid shoot straight into your pussy. Scaramouche finally stops and pulls out of your sore cunt, watching as the white substance leaks out of your abused hole, past your trembling thighs and onto the ground. A pleased look adorns his face,"Hehe, seems like I forgot to mention that I was about to cum, but that's alright, you couldn't anything about it anyway even if you knew."

You sat on the bed situated in the corner of the room, staring at the wall. Your eyes eventually landed on the chains binding your hands to the bed posts, restricting your movements. They were so short, you couldn't even walk a few inches away from the bed.

It had been months since Scaramouche kidnapped you from the cave you originally resided in after fucking your brains out. Since then he has kept you here, occasionally coming to 'check up' on his little pet which mostly consisted of him manhandling you till you were about to pass out. Everytime he came to you, you could see how he was gradually falling into madness. His words became more cruel, more unghinged, more obsessive.

It made you afraid of him and you were worried that someday he might snap and do something unthinkable.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror on the dresser right across from you. A collar was tightly looped around your neck with the name 'Scaramouche' in bold letters. Your hand came up and you tugged it slightly. It didn't budge. Tears filled your eyes at the humiliating memories it brought back. When he first showed it to you, you absolutely refused to wear it and after a lot of resistance from you he was able to secure it, he also fastened it so tightly it choked you at first. And he never bothered to loosen it. Sometimes, on the days when he was feeling it, he would attach a leash to the collar and use it to suffocate you if you were being to bratty.

Your eyes went lower to observe your attire. You'd been forbidden to wear anything besides a town that barely covered your thighs. That is, unless Scaramouche demanded otherwise. The material was so thin and you weren't even allowed to wear anything under it. For easy access, he said.

You've gotten over your dizzy, hallucinating state a long time ago and since you're usually locked up in the room, it's given you a lot of time to think. What has happened to your family? Have they noticed your disappearance? Are they looking for you? Did Scaramouche kill them? But he has no reason to do such a thing, but then again, you wouldn't put it past him to kill innocent people.

You flinch as the door opens. He's back already?

Your eyes widen in fear and you can't help but back up little by little when he approaches you. Soon you're pressed against the headboard and he gets on the bed and crawls over you. You stare into his dull eyes with your frightened ones. You can't see anything but obsession, lust and insanity in them.

"How's my little servant doing? Have you been enjoying your time here? You better have been. Why do you look so afraid? Hehe, you thought I wouldn't notice? You can't hide anything from your god you know." His cold hand rested on your cheek, slowly going down to trace the letters engraved on the collar you were forced to wear. A maniacal smile stretched across his face as he looked at it, pupils dilating with lust. Suddenly he hooked his fingers under it and gave it a sharp tug, briefly laughing when you gasped and instinctively grabbed his arm, as he pulled you forward.

Now he was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your lips. Without warning he kissed you with so much force your head hit the wooden headboard of the bed. This caused your mouth to slightly part in surprise and Scaramouche's tongue was practically down your throat instantly.

His knee made it's way between your legs, pressing up against your bare pussy and rubbing against it. You felt him smile against your mouth as your thighs squeezed his own in a futile attempt to conceal your now aroused state.

When he finally broke the kiss, you gratefully inhaled the much needed oxygen as your face burned with humiliation. You hated being in such a vulnerable state, you hated being so easy to take advantage of. But there was nothing you could do about the way the Harbinger's hands snuck under your gown to roughly grope your chest. No matter what you did or wanted to do, you could only moan in guilty pleasure.

Soon enough, you found yourself in a familiar but unwelcomed position: face pressed into the pillow with your 'lord's' dick thrusting in and out in an attempt to get off. Your hands held onto the sheets for dear life as you came for the 3rd time. Tears rolled down your face and drool stained the pillow as Scaramouche laughed cruelly at your fucked out appearance,"Need a break? Too bad, you won't get one."

You could only mumble inaudible phrases in between gasps and moans in response,"Ngh—please master—hngh—please cum in me—!" "What's that? You want me to fill this slutty hole of yours with my cum? That's right, fill up you like the cumdump you are?" He smirked as you only panted small, breathy 'yes'' to his degrading words. Moments later he finally reached his high and shot his load into your tight pussy.

Scaramouche didn't bother to pull out and instead pressed his chest against your back and whispered into your ear, possessiveness evident in his tone,"No one else can or ever will make you feel like this, only I can bring you this kind of pleasure. You're mine, mine to fuck how I want, mine to do with whatever I please. Right, my little servant?" You nodded dumbly to his statements, mind too mushy to think straight.

You really were just a cumdump for him.

[spacedikut]

“would you please put your tongue away” ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer can’t handle how good you look in your dress. he also can’t handle another guy asking you to dance. 2760 words

a/n: taken from this prompt list :)

“…It’s highly inappropriate.”

Someone waves a hand in front of Spencer’s face and he’s brought back to reality – surrounded by people from every FBI department in a far too bright room with champagne that is certainly not worth the amount it costs and in a suit that is a little too tight.

“What?” He asks.

“I said,” Derek grins, “Would you please put your tongue away.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at that, “My tongue is firmly in my mouth, Morgan.”

Derek gives a scoff. He wishes Emily was with them to attest, but she’s across the room, beside you, stuck in a conversation with some “important” person that Hotch made a point to tell the team to suck up to.

“If Y/N can’t feel your stare burning a hole in her back, when she turns and sees you drooling she’s sure to know you’re obsessed with her.”

In panic, Spencer wipes his mouth just in case he is in fact drooling. That gets a hearty laugh from Derek, and Spencer huffs indignantly, “I am not obsessed-“

“When you saw her all dressed up earlier you had to leave the room, Reid. That isn’t a platonic reaction.”

“Well,” He stutters, glancing over to you and scanning your bare back, “She looks- she-“

“She took your breath away, man. It’s okay.” Derek gives him a pat on the back and smirks at him, coughing to cover a chuckle when Spencer glares at him.

“And who is this majestic being that took Doctor Reid’s breath away?” It’s you, Prentiss and JJ trailing behind, delicately holding a champagne flute in your left hand and a business card in your right.

Spencer flounders, taken off-guard by your approach and the close-up view of you in your dress. He doesn’t know much about fashion, let alone dresses, but God do you look like something straight out of a movie. To him, you’re the embodiment of all the love poems and romantic monologues that his mother used to read him. He always wondered what the beauty all those writers saw looked like, and if he’d ever see something so celestial, and then you walked into his life.

He’ll never recover. Especially when you keep reminding him how perfect you are.

“Someone’s been networking,” Derek nods to the business card, noticing Spencer’s struggle and swooping in to save him. Derek loves to tease Spencer, it’s his favourite thing to do, but there’s always a time and a place, you know?

You fiddle with the card, “A little pretentious, but he mentioned having some paperwork trouble and I offered to help. I thought if I got in his good graces he’d help us keep the jet.”

Just then, the band at the back of the charity event plays a slow tune, everyone coupling up to head to the dancefloor. Before you or Spencer can react, Derek is dragging Emily away and JJ goes to find Will, but not before all three of them send some kind of subtle gesture to Spencer – Derek winks, Emily raises her eyebrows and looks between you and Spence, and JJ nudges him as she passes.

Spencer’s entire body locks up. He can’t do this. Whatever this is.

When he doesn’t move, you offer him your hand, “Would you care to dance, Doctor Reid?”

His body eases and he can’t help but smile because you’re you, “It would be an honour, Miss Y/N,” He laughs, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.

You tug him onto the outskirts of the floor – being in the centre is both of your worst nightmares – and Spencer’s other hand falls to the small of your back, pulling you close. You’re chest to chest, your arm falling in place around his shoulders, but even with heels on he’s still got some height on you. You sway to the music in perfect sync, like you’ve done this a million times, and your eyes subconsciously close from the comfort of being in Spencer’s arms and the feel of him against you.

You concentrate on your feet for a few beats, too shy to look him in his clear, brown eyes. When you finally look up to meet his gaze, you can’t help the soft smile that appears. He’s already looking at you.

Spencer returns it, smile equally as fond.

The lights of the room reflect in his eyes – it’s as if they’re twinkling, like stars, and it’s utterly mesmerising. For a second, you forget you’re at a fundraiser event, on business, surrounded by your team and people from all departments and all positions. You feel like you’ve been whisked away to some faraway land, maybe somewhere that isn’t filled with killers and evil, and you and Spencer are lovers simply enjoying the night and eachother’s company.

“You look beautiful,” Spencer whispers, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear you. You wonder if he feels the same way you do.

“Thank you. I was waiting for you to compliment me.” You tease.

“Oh? Does my compliment mean that much?”

You giggle nervously. You love when he teases you back, when he has this confidence that always surprises you.

“More than I’d like to admit,” You say, “But I did also spend all day getting ready, so I want my hard work appreciated.”

“Well,” Spencer swallows, eyes flickering to your collarbones and neck and everywhere on you, “Consider your hard work appreciated. Not just by me, either. I think I’ve got a lot of glares being shot at me right now.”

You break eye contact to survey the room. There’s definitely a good number of people staring at you, but you refuse to believe they’re all jealous of him. He looks dashing in his suit, hand-picked by Rossi himself, and you know you’re not the only one to notice. You see the beauties dotted around that keep checking him out.

Another ballad begins so Spencer keeps you close. He scans the side of your face, how your nose peaks and the makeup you’re wearing illuminates all of your features. He’s hopeless at makeup, too, but the colour of your eyeshadow(?) suits you perfectly. You always look perfect, he realises. Being ethereal comes naturally to you.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupts.

Both of you snap towards him. Travis.

Travis works in.. a department. A stupid one, probably. Spencer thinks Travis sucks.

“Hi, Trav,” You smile. You like Travis – of course you do. You’ve known him longer than you’ve known Spencer, so how does Spencer stand a chance?

“Evening, Y/N. Evening, Spencer.” He gives a polite smile.

Spencer returns it with his jaw set.

“Could I steal you for a dance, Y/N? Just like during our graduation ball?” His eyes are hopeful, and Spencer looks at in you confusion. What graduation ball?

You agree shyly, “Sure, Trav. Is that okay, Spence?”

He doesn’t know why you’re asking him – you both know Spencer’s too socially awkward to say no. So he nods, gives a tight lipped smile, and sharply turns to walk straight towards the bar. He doesn’t want to see Travis gently grasp your hand and pull you close, just like he had done.

But he’s not jealous.

“Water, please.” Spencer says to the bartender.

Someone slides up beside him. He glances at the shoes – Italian leather – and he knows it’s Rossi. He’s standing with a whiskey in his hand and a pitying gaze.

Spencer takes a big gulp from his glass of water like it’s a shot of straight vodka.

“You know he’s gonna make a move on her.” Rossi announces. Spencer takes another gulp.

“What?”

“I overheard him and his friends. They were in the academy together, and after seeing her tonight he’s decided now it’s time to make a move. Even stopped me to ask if she was single because he saw how close you two were out there.” Rossi shrugs as he takes a sip of his drink, gaze burning into Spencer as he does it.

Spencer knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to rile him up, get his feathers ruffled, for him to, what? Fight Travis on the dancefloor? Run up and steal you?

“I’m sure…” He starts, slowly, “If someone, say, Emily, who disappeared outside, had a sudden emergency… Y/N would drop Travis in a second.”

Spencer looks at him. Rossi raises his eyebrows.

“Excuse me.” Spencer says.

Rossi grins as he watches Spencer almost charge towards you.

There’s a hand on your shoulder and you know it’s Spencer, and when you turn he’s out of breath.

“Emily-“ He pants, “I think she’s- she’s sick. She’s outside and asking for you.”

“Oh, God,” You gasp, hands immediately leaving Travis completely to instinctively grasp Spencer by his arms, something you’ve always done.

Spencer’s heart warms at your concern – of course you’re so genuinely concerned for one of your best friends. Could you be anymore perfect?

“Let’s go, Spence.” You glance at Travis, feet already moving, “Sorry, Travis, it was lovely to dance with you!”

Travis watches you flutter away, knowing very well that that was his once chance and he lost it. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that Spencer is lying – at least a little.

Travis could tell Spencer wasn’t happy when he asked if he could dance with you. The unimpressed look in Spencer’s eyes whenever they made eye contact solidified that.

Travis can’t blame him, if he’s honest.

Outside, the cold is starting to set in, but you’re too panicked to notice or care. Your head darts left to right, searching for Emily. You spot her, in her stunning red dress, and go to call for her. But then she laughs, head thrown back, and takes another sip of her drink.

She’s fine.

You turn to Spencer, confused, “I thought she was sick?”

He looks sheepish and you laugh as he says, “I may have told a little lie.”

“Spencer!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.

“Well why-“

“Since we’re here, why don’t we go look at the fountain? I saw you eyeing it when we arrived.”

You want to ask why he interrupted you and Travis, but you’re not given the chance. Spencer’s large hand holds the tip of your fingers and he gently pulls you towards the stone fountain, where it stands with several tiers and the soothing sound of running water. There’s a statute in the centre – a woman wrapped in some kind of shawl.

“My guess,” You say, arms crossing, causing Spencer to take a sharp intake of breath, “Is the statue is based on the forlorn sculptor’s lover.”

Spencer’s body deflates as releases a deep breath. He thought you were onto him and why he ruined your dance.

“Actually,” His hands move to emphasise his point, “One of the most common purposes of sculpture is in some form of association with religion-“

“Why did you interrupt Travis and I?”

Uh oh.

“Did I look uncomfortable?” You wonder, “Because I can handle myself, Spence.”

You tried to resist asking again. But something about what he did bothers you – if you didn’t want to dance with Travis, you would’ve said no or made an excuse to not have to. If you didn’t want to be around Travis, you would’ve walked away from him. No matter what, you could’ve dealt with it yourself. Does Spencer disagree?

He licks his lips out of nervousness, shakes his head and mumbles a, “No, that’s not it.”

You turn to face him. His hands are in his pockets and he’s staring at the ground as he shuffles his feet. Rossi will have a fit when he sees the shoes he hand-picked have marks on them.

“I needed to get you alone. I’m sorry.” Spencer squirms. He can’t make eye contact.

“What?” You ask, brows furrowed, “Why? Is something wrong?”

“He was..” He trails off and clears his throat, “He was gonna ask you out. I couldn’t- didn’t want to let that happen.”

Your confusion increases. So he does think you can’t handle yourself?

There’s a spark of frustration in you, then. You’ve dealt with being underestimated and babied basically your whole life and Spencer knows that. He also knows you’re a trained FBI agent that has saved his skin more times than you care to count – he knows better than anyone that you can handle yourself.

So what the fuck.

“I appreciate the concern,”

Spencer winces at your tone. This is… not going well. Not going how Spencer wanted it to, or planned. Not that he had a plan beyond getting you and Travis as far away from one another as possible.

“But I can guarantee I do not need you to loom over me and scare boys away, Spencer. You’re not my father.”

Your tone is biting and Spencer moves closer to placate you.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N, I’m sorry that’s- I know you can handle yourself. Very well. I still have the scar from when you thought I was a robber in your house-“

“You shouldn’t have tried to sneak up on me, Spencer Reid-“

“Rossi overheard Travis saying he was gonna make a move on you and it was like I went on auto-pilot and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears and-“

“I can take care of myself, Spence.”

“I couldn’t let it happen because I want to date you.”

He looks at you then, gaze so intense you feel frozen where you stand. He continues.

“But I’m sorry if you were planning to say yes to Travis and I… came in and ruined it. Maybe you’re into him and I just… delayed the inevitable for no reason other than to humiliate myself.” He gives a tight lipped smile, rolling onto the tips of his feet and then back on the heel.

You let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. “I wasn’t going to say yes to Travis, Spence. It’d be pretty damn rude for me to date him when I very much like and want to date you.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he gives a toothy, hesitant smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” You step closer. Spencer can’t take his eyes off you, not that he’s been able to at any point tonight, but now you can tell he can’t help but ogle at you.

It makes you feel fuzzy inside, that mix of excitement and nerves that you always get around Spencer.

“Well, what should we do about that?” He teases, but some anxiety shines through. He’s genuinely asking.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” You ask.

He sputters, “Uh- yes. That would be completely okay.”

“Well then,” You smile, “Come here.”

As if you’ve done it a million times, Spencer’s hands cup your face as he tugs you towards his lips. Your hands find his waist, softly gripping him as your eyes flutter shut and you feel Spencer’s lips for the first time.

Why does it feel so natural? So right?

Spencer has to pull back a couple of seconds later because he’s smiling so wide. You can’t resist and kiss his nose, and he giggles. He giggles.

God, you’re so in love with him.

Spencer glances at the statue standing at the top of the fountain.

“You think she’s angry that we’re kissing in front of her?”

You hum in consideration, “Definitely jealous. I mean, not everyone gets to kiss the most handsome guy at the ball.”

He can’t help but blush, and although you have a teasing tone you both know you genuinely mean it.

From where you’re standing you can still slightly hear the sound of the band inside – some kind of smooth jazz is being played now, nice and slow.

You turn and offer your hand to Spencer, just like before, “Another dance, kind sir?”

Spencer gives you a cheeky smile, “As long as you promise no Travis-like interruptions this time.”

He pulls you close, definitely closer than before as your lips nearly touch and you can feel his breath, and you rub the tip of your nose against his. “No Travis, no one, just us.”

“And the voyeur statue,” He gestures with his head towards the fountain.

You both look, and your hand leaves his shoulder to flip her off.

“Back off, hag.” You joke, and Spencer laughs at your absurdity.

Then you dance, for the second time, to the music that flows out from inside. Under the moonlight, with the twinkling stars, Spencer is convinced this is the closest to Heaven on Earth. With you, in his arms, dopey grins and loving stares.

God, he’s so in love with you.

[dafukdidiwatch]

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

Not a musical no matter what the first 15 minutes tell you.

This was a pretty interesting movie. It is told as a series of vignettes who’s common theme was that they were all set in the old west. Well that and death. There’s 6 in total and each one of them has a different but interesting vibe to them. There were a lot of quiet silent moments in the movie, hardly any background music to it unless it was a beginning or end of a segment. But it definitely allowed for the scene to just breathe and revel in the moment. It also had some beautifully done cinematography showing the landscape and vastness that is the old west. It’s hard to generalize it because like I said before, each story has it’s own vibe to it that is different from one another.

With that, I’m just going to give my basic feelings of each of the stories shown. So yeah, Spoilers.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs: Wow this guy. I deadass thought the whole movie was a musical because the first story was this guy singing constantly. And when I looked it up on youtube all that popped up was the songs. My sister put it right with saying he is a violent Bard in a D&D campaign. I was getting the vibe if Mr. Rogers had a dark underbelly of being psychotic. He is smarmy, oddly charismatic, and the more I watched him the more I hope someone killed him. And they did, which made me very happy. The song numbers were fun, and damn the deaths were brutal. But a very good start.

Near Algodones: I call this story “Pan Man” because holy crap the greatest character ever was in this movie. This nutcase banker who, deadass told the bank robber he shot a man’s legs off and kept him in the bank vault for 3 weeks, comes running out covered in pans screaming “PAN SHOT” every time a bullet gets deflected. Truly the highlight of the story, which is sad that he doesn’t really show up for the rest of the story. Which follows a bank robber going from one horrible situation to the next from trying to rob a bank. Which, if the guy was telling a whimsical story of how he kept a man locked legless in a vault, maybe you shouldn’t rob him to begin with. I also found out where the “First Time?” picture set came from. Good to know.

Meal Ticket: This one is probably my least favorite just because it was so sad. This wandering troupe of an old man and the limbless storyteller traveling around trying to make a buck via entertaining stories. It was very quiet, hardly anyone talked outside the stories being told. It made me feel...pity I think. Mostly because I didn’t know if the old man actually cared for the kid as a person, or just used him as a means to an end to make a living. It doesn’t help that the kid never speaks outside of the act, so I don’t know whether that’s an artistic choice or the kid doesn’t really know what he’s saying. Audience interpretation I guess. Then when we get to the chicken, and yeah all doubts are thrown out the window over how the old man saw the kid. It’s sad and tragic. Not every story has to be a happy one, but not a lot of happy endings so far.

All Gold Canyon: This is probably my second favorite. All it is is just a lone man panning for gold in a beautiful valley. The landscape is gorgeous. You see this old man, coughing from illness or old age you don’t know, just meticulously panning and trying to find that vein of gold. Facinating really. This is definitely the most silent out of all the films because it is him by himself, but it really sucks you in just watching if he will be successful or not. And then when the shadow passes over him...well....even though I said spoilers, I don’t want to give too much away.

The Gal Who Got Rattled: This is pretty much a 20 minute romance novel. Sister and brother travels out west, but sister finds herself in dire straits after her brother dies. She turns to the man heading the wagon train for help and they slowly but surely fall in love. Well...I don’t know if it is love exactly. More like, a gentle comfort. Where they can confide in each other for a pleasant life and simple pleasures. I was watching this with my sister and we were both trying to sus out why we felt “off” throughout. Like, if the wagon boy had killed the brother to steal the money, trying to sus out the criminal. Lol we watch way too many crime shows. The end is a tragedy, we can’t all have nice things. Which if we are keeping count there is really only 1 happy end in this movie.

The Mortal Remains:  I actually really like this story. It’s just 5 people sitting in a carriage just talking about things. Life. I could listen to the Trapper guy for hours he has very interesting stories. And seeing how they just bounce off of the purity woman, the french guy, and the two polite yet terrifying bounty hunters. It also had this more terrifying feeling as the sun sets and that the carriage driver doesn’t stop. This is probably my favorite.

Overall: This was a very enjoyable movie. There was some funny moments, heartfelt moments, sad moments, quiet moments, action moments, basically emotions all over the place. It was a fun watch but since their vignettes you can probably watch them separately in chunks instead of as a whole movie. I would recommend it, it’s a cool take to see on the 1800s West.

[idjitlili]

Thorin x Modern!reader

Summary: imagine being annoying and singing the bilbo baggins ballad to wind up Thorin.

Word count:2125

You had been travelling with company for many months now, since you dropped from the sky onto a troll. It hurt like a smashing your back into the taps of a fancy bath. Then you were almost eaten by that troll, until Gandalf had saved you and the small dudes by smashing a rock in half.

Gandalf had allowed you to join the Journey despite Thorins total dislike of the idea.This face scrunched up in anger as he began to talk “I will not be responsible for her safety nor Bilbos.” You giggles at Bilbos name you knew exactly where you were and what you were going to do on the journey. Thorin turned to you and glared, you just stuck your hands up on surrender.

“Very well ,Thorin but you will not cause harm to my burglar or this women.” Gandalf spoke to the dwarves king.

Over the course of these months Thorin ignores you as much as he could even after bilbo saved him, he still avoided you at all costs. You thought he thought you were annoying. Kili and fili would annoy their uncle to get attention from him so that was exactly what you were going to do.

Now you all were escaping Thranduils kingdom in barrels down a river,thanks to Bilbo. The water soaked your shirt with y/m/r(movie reference) upon it, and denim shorts. Since the elves had stripped you from everything else, despite the dwarves anger. Not going to lie this barrel ride thing was very fun. From what you gathered so far Thorin wasn’t the type of person for jolly songs, and you knew of a song that was just that. You had previously had your arms in the arm , like on a rollercoaster, so you began shouting lyrics while doing so.

“In the Middle of the Earth, in the land of Shire

Lives a brave little hobbit whom we all admire

With his long, wooden pipe

Fuzzy, wooly toes

He lives in a hobbit-hole and everybody knows him”

Bilbo looks at you confused, aswell as legolas , he wonders what the fuck she doing she’s gonna get stabbed. Kili has already been shot and you all had already passed through the gate. You were trying to annoy Thorin yes but to lighten the mood distract kili from his pain.

“Bilbo (Bilbo!), Bilbo Baggins

He's only three feet tall

Bilbo (Bilbo!), Bilbo Baggins

The bravest little hobbit of 'em all!”

You aren’t really singing you just shouting the lyrics, Thorin keeps glancing at you with glares you smirk at him, you are sure that kili is going to join in singing soon enough.

“Now, hobbits are peace-loving folks, you know

They're never in a hurry and they take things slow

They don't like to travel away from home

They just like to eat and be left alone!”

“But one day Bilbo was asked to go

On a big adventure to the caves below

To help some dwarves get back their gold

That was stolen by a dragon in the days of old.”

You duck in the barrel as arrow flew passed you.

“Well he fought with the goblins!

He battled a troll!

He riddled with Gollum!

A magic THING He stole!

He was chased by wolves!

Lost in the forest!

Escaped in a barrel from the elf-king's halls!” You purposely changed ring to thing , so no one knew his secret you just smiled at Bilbo who had his mouth wide open, knowing you knew he had found a ring.

“Bilbo (Bilbo!), Bilbo Baggins

The bravest little hobbit of 'em all!” Kili and fili joined in at the second Bilbo, Bofur laughed the three of you, Bilbo smiled.

“Now he's back in his hole in the land of Shire

That brave little hobbit whom we all admire

Just a-sittin' on a treasure of silver and gold

A-puffin' on his pipe in his hobbit-hole!”

By the time you had finished you all had outrun or out swam , you all got the barrels drenched in water, clothes sagging from it.

“Y/n , is that a song from where you are from?” Bilbo had questioned you looking up at you , standing on the bank of the shore , you nodded at the hobbit. Before anyone could say anything else , Thorin marched over to you , grabbing you by the shoulder to turn you to him.

“What WERE you doing?” He screamed at you with anger. Damn this felt like the perfect line , he just spoon fed you more motive.

“ what arrr you doing?!” You frowned at Thorin , who clenched his fists harder.

“No,I SAID what were you doing?”

“What’re you doing?” You smirked , as Thorin scoffed at you about to shout at you, but then Bilbo clenched on your hand pulling you away. You looked back at Thorin who was still scowling at you, you gave him that smiling face Nicolas cage does.

That didn’t continue much longer , as Bard arrived, “damn bro he looks better in person.” You whispered Bilbo who just just nudged you’re leg to be quiet.

“When I was a lad, I ate four dozen eggs

Every morning to help me get large

And now that I'm grown, I eat five dozen eggs

So I'm roughly the size of a barge.” You spoke quietly down into the water recalling beauty and the beast. You had a huge crush on Gaston, but stupid Thorin bad made you achieve a bigger on on him.

“I’m so sorry miss y/n, but bomburs the only one the same size as a barge.” Bofur smirked to you , you giggled “it’s just a song from my home, sir.” You looked towards the dwarf with the hat.

“You will have to sing it for us miss y/n, your Songs are most enjoyable.” He smiled at you placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I can’t sing, hence why shouted the last song.” This made bofur laugh, but didn’t say anything , but bard told the dwarves to get in the barrels to hide. “Mister Bard , I have too long of a torso to hide in them.” Bard looked at your appearance , frowning you looked very different to anyone you had met. He wraps his coat around your shoulders.

“We shall act if we are courting as you need to wear my coat to hide your strange clothing.” He smiles lightly at you.

“Yes sir.” You did an army salute, he chucked at your weird gesture. Thorin didn’t like this idea or the way you looked at Bard.

Bard had been stopped from going into lake town from that greasy skank Alfred, eventually Bard had convinced him but that wasn’t going to stop him eyeing you up.

You glared at him , grabbing onto Bards arm, who realised what was happening wrapped his arm around you pulling you into his side. Alfrid was soon to look away embarrassed, he was clearly afraid of bard. Soon you passed and was able to let go of bard and soon the dwarves were out of the barrels. While bard and you headed to his house with his son , Bain. “Thank you bard for helping us.” You had told bard he sent you a smile.

You entered the house house to be greeted by his two daughters ,sigrid and Tilda. Their mouths gap in shock, at you wearing their fathers coat. You pull it off , putting on the peg. “Isn’t see a little young father?” Sigrid has questioned her father, you were only two years older than her.

“Uh.. I am not courting your father.” You replied with a blush on your cheeks from embarrassment. “Why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet da?” Sigrid had questioned, after the embarrassing in counter. “Will they bring us luck?” Tilda spoke up in excitement. Bilbo walked into the room wet and cold, as bards daughters gave you and the other blankets. You wrapped it around your cold form, “how was your trip Bilbo?” You smirked.

He sent you a glare “oh lovely , you know I had a nice swim.” You giggled.Thorin glared at you , from the fire place.

***

Yo u had told Thorin it was a trap , saving fili and kilis life, now Thorin fought Azog on the ice. Once Azog was distracted Thorin has threw that brick like weapon to Azog causing him to caught it. Thorin stood off the ice , making Azog fall but before he fell in the water you had popped out plunging the sword into Azog a back into his heart.

Your sword had became stuck, you pull at it with all your might, but you can’t get it free. Before you know it you are in the freezing water, trying keep ahold on the ice.

“Y/n?!” Thorin screamed running , towards you, but you cannot hold on to the cold ice any longer. “T-tho” before you can finish his name you lose grasp on the ice, plunging into the icy water. Your whole body is covered as your fingers lose sight of dryness , before the water takes over.

For moments that felt like hours you were surrounded, in death, before someone had grabbed onto your hand pulling you out of the water with ease. Yet you still only saw darkness until the you began coughing up water to breath. You lay on the cold ice spitting up the water on your side. “Y/n?” Someone’s voices echoed, through your blocked ears. You couldn’t see clear everything was blurry, you couldn’t make out details.

Large hands pull you into their bodies , wrapping fur around you soaking body. Bloody hell you were still wearing shorts and a t-shirt. “Yes?” You had whispered before closing your eyes, the person had stood up carrying you bridal style , becoming sonic running.

The next time you woke up you were in a bed , covered with furs and a very warm body laying at your side. The body is strong and muscular his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. The furs tickle your bare arms. You eyes shot open like a fridge by a hungry obese man. (That guy egg dude from sonic) You look to your side to see Thorin in deep slumber , his face surprisingly peaceful, as great contrast to his brooding face. “DAMN BRO did I finally get laid?” You shout loudly causing Thorin to jolt.

He sits up in the bed, you were in the covers yet he lay onto of them, without his shoes just a tunic and pants. “Y/n,you are awake.” He spoke groggly,removing his arm from you quickly when noticing it’s position. “I’m so sorry y/n” damn he never apologised except to Bilbo. “It’s okay I didn’t mind.” You smiled slyly at him.

“Thank you.” He had spoke sincerely, you sat up in the bed, joints cracking, looking around the room, this wasn’t your room Thorin had given you... it was his room.

“For what?” You questioned , you did nothing but almost dying. “For saving my family y/n . For that I also must apologise for treating you so poorly. I hope you can forgive me.” Thorin was also sitting up next to you clutching your now warm hand holding it gently.

“It’s all good Thorin. Not going to lie to you, I did annoy you to get a reaction out of you.” You smirk at the dwarves king. He chuckled at him “yes I was fully aware, kili and fili do the same thing.”

“That’s where I got the idea.” You giggledz

“Of course you did.” You sigh , In satisfaction you had never had a proper conversation with Thorin.

“God dude you didn’t even speak to me , and when you did you were angry. Yet still a dwarf , you captured my heart.” You spoke lowly , not really thinking about your words.

“I did?” You gasp , Thorin looks at you in shock, you eyes burn in embarrassment, you nod slowly and nervously. Before you know it , Thorin had grasped your cheeks pressing his lips to yours briefly before pulling away.

“As you have captured mine. God I saw those looks you gave that barge man.” He strokes his thumb on your cheek softly.

“What can I say he is a very handsome man.” You giggle at your own words.

Before you know it the door is open and Bilbo is skipping in “Oh my you have changed Thorin.” You both snap you’re heads to Bilbo.

“You did nawtttt God damnit Dildo Gaggins,”

[hockeysweetheart]

My thoughts while reading The ballad of song birds and Snakes...   ( I’ll be refering Coriolanus to Snow in this because I am not about to write that name who know how many times) ( Please note Many many spoilers ahead)

How  do I say these names... Flips through the book yeah I’m screwed.. 

Trigis is Snow’s Older Cousin Didn’t see that coming 

What’s this... Am I actually Feeling sorry and bad for snow... ( lets see how long this lasts for)

Point 2 seconds  a little upset you have to mentor Lucy gray from District 12 then your over it once she shows her vaule... 

Lucy Gray  wow you sure know how to make an entrence.  I like you... 

Is she the first winner from District 12?  

Did that really happen... 

Roses on the roof really... 

Okay  that was kinda sweet (  showing up to the train station with the rose) 

Wait what it’s not the luxury that is seen in the other books.They are treated like well zoo animals.  anywhere outside of the zoo ( before a certain point they are in handcuffs  also they are literally all in the same cage at the zoo and people can visit them too) ( Not fed/ mot trained basically they go into the arena as they look and wear the same clothes too)  (( I am doing this in one big point so then I don’t do like 50 points on this) 

No wonder there is a law  “No fighting with the other tributes before the games start”  

Who the actual **** is this Dean Guy... 

Okay thats sweet Snow is actually trying to make Lucy Stand a chance....  Whats this Snow is actual kinda sweet what are you  doing to me.. 

Sejanus Is feeding them too... 

Okay the Picnic was kinda sweet.. 

He knows Marcus... Oh wait I forgot hes from District 2 

Well that escalated Quickly... 

How didn’t these games get cancled...  I said this to myself about 10 times... 

Okay you did what to that girl because she told a lie...

Dr Gaul I have so many questions but frankly I am scared for your answer..

Okay Kids lets go on a field trip  where you will die in a few days.. 

What is this arena... 

Boom....  

How is this guy on the loose... 

Then I realized the games haven’t even started yet...

About the public humlationn really  you treated them bad enough... but now the dead... ughhh 

Okay Snow is being sweet again. Why am I blushing.. 

Okay I am convinced this Lucy Gray is related to Katniss somehow... 

SUGAR COOKIES PEETA MELLARK....

Okay that was sweet for Trigis to help out for the interview cleaning her dress and making sure lucy was washed up a bit... 

Is it that hard to find a gutair.... 

It’s not over until the Mockingjay sings... 

Lucy Grays Interview  wow.. BRAVO BRAVO..

Wait a second. Snow you didn’t just say that You own Lucy Gray.... Just because  her interview was amazing... and she’s a bigger shot then you... Takes a sip of a drink... Well I should of seen this  coming.. 

Okay its okay to let Lucy Gray cheat in the games But when Katniss pulls out those berries its like oh hell no... 

Now I see why they check the Tokens from home befroe they are approved for the arena.. 

She really kissed you and we were about to whitness a makeout session... ( I almost yelled get a room) 

Now the games are gonna beggin actually  I was like is this a false start..  

Oh its Happening...  

Whats the point of throwing Marcus pretty much dead in like that... 

Who is Lucky Flickerman  and this guy with the camera in there faces...

What in the actual were those Parachute gifts...  

Guess there are no trackers on them... 

How in the hell. Did  Sejanus get in the arena... Why are you making Snow go and get him... Grow some and get in there your self...  I just defended Snow whats wrong with me... 

Snow actually Killed a tribute... what the....

Why is guy from 11 Making a morgue.... 

Laughing a little  when other tributes grab the gifts 

Oh a little Jealous of Lucy Gray and her District partner 

Okay did I really just read the words STAR CROSSED LOVERS.. your killing me here..

OH wait.... Okay that was kinda sweet.. What the mentor for the male of District 12 did to save Lucy... 

Well that Alliance is over... 

Rat Poison.... 

District 11 your no fool... 

So let me get this you can only send gifts if you can see them where the hell are all the cameras... 

Really messing with the snakes so they don’t attack Lucy... ugh... so you can win the prize to pay your way... Pops another bottle  

Lucy Gray looks like this snake whisper.... 

This morgue is weird... 

I like my town with a little drop of Poison...  

How the hell did she Poison that pond... 

Well Lucy gray is the winner... ( As expected..) 

Oh shit now Snow is in trouble...  

And how in the hell he got approved to be a peacekeepr in district 12... 

Okay it is kinda sweet he is going after someone he loves...

Snow  one step in District 12.. Oh my god air nature get me outta here... Me rolls eyes.... 

Thank god  Sejanus is here. 

Are you are you coming to the tree... 

Snow sees one Mockingjay and is like Oh hell no...  Me Katniss Everdeen .... 

Maybe once he sees Lucy he will change   

The only Days free is Sunday .... 

The Hob really... 

trading  Sejanus Ma’s goods... 

Hmmm they are kinda looking like the peacekeepers from 12 around Katniss’s time... Kinda chill.. 

Okay Maude Ivory shes cute.. The Covey Love them.. 

When you think oh they are finally going to meet face to face again Bam... Billy Tate and Mayfair Lipp ruin it..  ‘

You really went to the bakery...  HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND.. 

During this point I thought Snow you have seen how food  doesn’t come by really good here....WHY HAVEN’T YOU FED THEM BETTER IN THE 65 DAMN YEARS.. .

Really  from the seam...  ( Starts to make a list of every possbile place that Belongs to Katniss Everdeen) 

Not only does Snow Find Lucy Gray in the medow ( Deep in the meadow) But with a goat too...    ( adds it to my list)   and shes Sing the song she wrote the hanging tree...  adds to my list....

And now they start making out/ Which basically almost ends up in make out session every single time they meet up..  ( Now i was okay with this since I am sucker for a love story)

Did Lucy Live in the same house as Katniss did....  

Snow also realized real fast how the Districts don’t watch the games too much...

Billy whats his last name and   Sejanus hmmm  Hiding a map but wait Snow saw it... That could of happened smoother...

Snow has this plan to Kill the mockingjay.... ( Sweetheart that didn’t work 65 years later).... 

They go to the lake in the woods on a sunday no less... damn 3 things to add oh my god Katniss everdeen list... 

Snow literally 2 seconds into the woods oh hell no... ROLLS EYES... 

Now your swimming in the lake and in the “house” Keeps writing down)...   and the Deep in the meadow song is sung... I am going to need a bigger piece of paper.. 

Finds Katniss plants... now at this point i am not surprised... 

Gets approval to Kill the Mockingjays because they care me BIG WOOF....

Trapping the jabberjays... why is snow so interested... Oh shit the scientist knows me.. 

Sees Lucy again at singing at the hobb but he has a little before the show if you know what I mean.. then he notices Sejanus  sneaks out ( which he clames he was going to the bathroom... which was  a lie) 

Maude Ivory is Wearing a buttercup dress... whats next Primrose  is gonna make an apperence... 

Snow really looking threw  Sejanus stuff... ( I was so like hes gonna take the money and run) 

Sejanus oh my dear Sejanus He played you like a fool ... He recorderd the whole damn thing... at least he cannot get worse then that... your kinda like the idiot in those movies that lays out the whole evil plot to someone to only 10 seconds later get caught for it....

What the actual BEEEP happened in that shed.. Please let this be the first and last gun Snow ever gets his hands on... 

The fact that Maude Ivory found the bodies is not okay... 

The gossip at the BASE is gold.. 

At least snow felt Guilt for his killings... 

are you are you coming to the tree 

Well  Sejanus Sorry to see you go..

Now a little make out session at the commarders party when the Covey sings...  She really wrote a song for him okay thats kinda sweet.. 

Now  Lucy asks Snow to run away with her.... ( Writes this down) And he says yes... he literally didn’t make it five miles...  but then he found out he passed a test the day of but attemps to run away with Lucy... but....  

Before this tho Snow sends all of  Sejanus Money to trigis ( oh yeah i forgot to add basically they are loosing there place) 

Now in the Woods...

5 seconds in snow is like oh hell no....

Lucy Figures out that Snow is the reason  Sejanus is dead... 

Lucy  says shes gonna get katniss plants and then she get the hell outta there this is after Snow finds the murder wepons... 

Snow gets bitten by a snake... ( Sips wine) 

Who in the hell Let Coriolanus Snow touch a gun...   he is shooting left and right... 

Lucy Grey GAME ON.... ARE YOU ARE YOU COMING TO THE TREE.... and then bam gone...

My reaction to those events was what the actual hell did i read there.. Oh it gets better... 

So snow makes it back thinking hes gonna die from a non poisnous snake bite... and hes outta district 12.. But back to the captiol to where Dr Gaul said you passed the test...  

Now here is the part I literally almost threw my book... 

When Snow used  Sejanus Parents to his full advantage... never telling them oh he is the reason there one and only son is dead.. and Basically the parents “Adopt snow..” pay for his schooling now, makes sure he is well fed and dressed..” I was beyond pissed at this point...  

So now my last point Snow said the games must go on which duhh ( since we meet Katniss everdeen ) and that they will be better and everyone must watch... and more twists and turns in it...

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, April 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover

Page 2: Michael Douglas' short-term memory loss and frail frame have wife Catherine Zeta-Jones fearing for her older husband's well-being -- Michael once declared he'd beaten oral cancer, but harsh chemotherapy and radiation treatments have left him a shell of his former self and he has even admitted to suffering memory problems -- he was also affected by the 2020 death of his father Kirk Douglas and he hasn't been the same since his dad died -- this is a guy who cheated death with a horrific cancer ordeal, and he's had other medical issues over the years and some serious domestic dramas that have taken their toll -- Catherine always knew that their age difference would mean her taking care of him one day but she didn't expect it to be so soon

Page 3: Reese Witherspoon has ditched her wedding ring during recent outings, sparking rumors her marriage to Jim Toth is on the ropes but she feels their relationship isn't down for the count and refuses to give up the fight to keep their family together but they may not make it -- the desire to make things work is still there on both sides and they've been able to pull it all together all these years, even with personalities as different as theirs mainly for the sake of their family and they got on each other's nerves while cooped up together during the pandemic, but they don't bicker in public and that's one thing they have going for them

Page 4: Ryan Seacrest creeped out his pals when he gushed over Maria Menounos when she sat in for Kelly Ripa on Live recently -- Ryan thinks Maria is the smartest, most talented and beautiful woman to walk the planet and he can't help but swoon over her but Ryan understands Maria is happily married to TV writer and producer Keven Underago and he'd never cross the line and he doesn't want to date Maria, but he makes no secret he'd be dancing on air to have someone like her, which is kind of creepy, but he can't help it -- Ryan would never make moves on someone else's girl, but he does try to imitate her husband Keven's qualities like how funny and creative and sensible he is and Ryan adores Kelly and thinks she's great but he wouldn't mind if she takes more time off just so he can gaze at Maria

* Miley Cyrus' recent boozy night out with party pals, including British punk rocker Yungblud, has loved ones fearing she's slipping back into dangerous territory -- she was spotted at Hollywood's famous Rainbow Bar & Grill, drinking shots and beer chasers, just months after she admitted to her struggles with addiction and after fellow addiction-challenged singer Demi Lovato announced she was California sober, claiming she was safely able to drink in moderation, Miley didn't see any reason why she couldn't do the same -- her family and sober friends are deeply concerned for Miley's well-being and are begging her to stop drinking now

Page 5: Newly robust Celine Dion has her health back on track following a dangerous few years where she looked like a walking skeleton -- she has beefed up her wraith-like frame by making healthier choices during lockdown -- she went through a rough time of transition after husband Rene Angelil's death and lost a lot of weight, but lockdown has given her a chance to rest and focus on taking care of herself and now she looks 15 to 20 pounds heavier and seems in good spirits and is looking forward to rebooting her Courage World Tour when the pandemic ends

Page 6: Fitness fanatic Tim McGraw is a changed man since he kicked the bottle in 2008, but he's now hooked on working out and sculpting the perfect bod and he's publicly admitted exercise is what gets him flying high but his quest to get ripped to the max is now a 24/7 obsession and he spends hours in the gym and he's already flexing a muscular body most men would die for, but he doesn't want to stop until he's an Adonis and he works out twice or three times a day and packs his diet with energy-boosting smoothies and veggie juices and some might say he's going overboard with the workouts, but Tim craves those feel-good endorphins and he considers his workouts to be fun -- he loves the way he looks and thinks he can do better and he does spend a lot of time in front of the mirror admiring himself and tends to wear tight T-shirts that show off his pecs and six-pack abs, and wife Faith Hill loves the results -- a lot of people say he's traded one addiction for another

Page 7: Nearly six years after their bitter divorce, Miranda Lambert has finally extended an olive branch to ex-husband Blake Shelton, but she's still pretty envious over his professional success with fiancee Gwen Stefani -- last year, Blake and Gwen took home the collaborative video prize at the Country Music Television Awards for their duet Nobody but You, and also scored a Top Ten hit with their single Happy Anywhere and it makes Miranda jealous to see Blake making hay on the charts with Gwen but their success also made Miranda recall Over You, her hit collaboration with Blake, which won Song of the Year at the 2012 Country Music Association Awards and during a recent interview, Miranda affectionately blew kisses toward the camera as she recounted how her ballad with Blake was inspired by his grief over the loss of his older brother; still, Miranda also harbors a competitive streak and said she's angling to transform herself and husband Brendan McLoughlin into entertainment movers and shakers just like Blake and Gwen -- Miranda plans to enroll Brendan in acting school and Miranda wants them to act together and they are looking for scripts to make a television movie and even planning to launch a production company in Nashville and Miranda recognizes the musical chemistry Blake and Gwen share, and she believes she and Brendan can match that success on-screen -- meanwhile, as Blake and Gwen prepare to wed, Miranda is finally in a place where she can wish them well and Miranda carried a lot of animosity toward Blake and Gwen, especially since she suspected they started something before she and Blake split up, but she's very happy with Brendan so maybe all that pain she and Blake went through in ending their marriage was for the best

* Reba McEntire is reaching out to save her friend and former daughter-in-law Kelly Clarkson from suffering through a divorce that eerily mirrors Reba's own breakup -- Kelly split from husband and manager Brandon Blackstock in June 2020, and the divorce battle has them fighting over custody of their two kids as well as Brandon suing her for $1.4 million in unpaid commissions, but Reba has seen this before: Brandon's dad, Narvel Blackstock, dumped her in 2015 after 26 years of marriage, and despite initially agreeing to continue as her manager, dumped her as a client weeks later and Reba knows all too well how petty and conniving Narvel and Brandon can be, and her heart goes out to Kelly -- Kelly admits to Reba there are times when she just wants to run away and hide and Reba tells her to run away to me and it means the world to Kelly to have Reba in her corner -- Narvel and son Brandon head Starstruck Entertainment and are adamant that Kelly owes them big bucks for helping her land both her talk show and a coaching spot on The Voice, but with Reba's help, Kelly is fighting back and Reba learned the hard way the pitfalls of mixing business with family life and she's trying to help Kelly because she hates to see another woman suffer at the hands of a Blackstock

Page 8: Sicko Jeffrey Epstein has been accused of a horrific new litany of abuse by a woman who claims he forced her into unwanted genital surgery, raped her in front of her child and threatened to feed her to alligators -- the woman, identified in court papers as Jane Doe, is suing the late pervert's estate, claiming he and his alleged madam Ghislaine Maxwell, groomed her for their sordid pleasure -- in the suit, she claims Epstein drove her to pick up her 8-year-old son and took them to a lake, where he threatened to feed her to alligators, as had happened to other girls in the past, if she dared to squeal on him -- at the time, the woman said she was 26, but she looked much younger and Epstein told her to say she was 17 and he also arranged for a man with a Russian accent to perform an unnecessary vaginal surgery to pass her off as a virgin to a client and this violent and illegal procedure was botched, leaving her mutilated, in pain, disabled, and permanently sexually dysfunctional

Page 9: Ghislaine Maxwell has been slapped with yet another sex trafficking charge and it's got her former pal Prince Andrew sweating bullets -- the new indictment details how Jeffrey Epstein's alleged madam reportedly groomed a 14-year-old for him, but crucially for Andrew, it expands the time frame of Ghislaine's alleged crimes from 1994 to 2004, a span that includes her meeting the British royal in 1999 and then introducing him to Epstein and that time frame also includes the period in which "sex slave" Virginia Roberts Giuffre claims she slept with Andrew three times, charges he's denied -- the new charge also opens the floodgates on other celebrities, politicians and high-profile figures who were in Epstein's orbit at the time and the new indictment widens the pool for Ghislaine and her defense attorneys because who wouldn't want to bring down all of these fat cats and who wouldn't be that desperate?

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Rumer Willis got to the root of her gardening needs in L.A., Michael B. Jordan and Chante Adams got cozy as they shared a snack while shooting Journal for Jordan in NYC's Central Park, Heidi Klum in L.A., Mario Lopez tossed the ceremonial first dice roll at the opening of the Mohegan Sun Casino in Las Vegas, Christopher Meloni shot his onscreen spouse's funeral scene for Law & Order: Organized Crime

Page 11: Tony Bennett has a secret weapon in his fight against Alzheimer's disease: his close pal and collaborator Lady Gaga -- Susan Crow Benedetto, 54, the wife of the 94-year-old singing legend, has enlisted Gaga to help keep Tony's faculties sharp as he struggles with advancing dementia because Gaga's telephone calls have always helped cheer Tony up and keep him focused and they laugh together, reminisce and sometimes sing and it always puts a smile on Tony's face and it's great therapy -- when asked whether Tony still recognizes the pop star, Susan joked that Gaga is hard to forget -- Gaga has also played a critical role in keeping the aging crooner active and creative by working with him and they plan to release their second album of duets this spring as a follow-up to their 2014 smash hit Cheek to Cheek

* Worried friends feared ailing rock god Ozzy Osbourne is coming unstrung while wife Sharon Osbourne's career goes into a death spiral -- Ozzy has been plagued by crippling illnesses over the years, including Parkinson's disease, and has to walk with the aid of a cane and now he's at wit's end and pushing himself into a danger zone as his wife fights tooth and nail after leaving The Talk amid a racism scandal and Ozzy's been under a great deal of distress over Sharon's problems over at The Talk and he worries and fusses over her and can't focus on anything else and it's left many in his circle very concerned for his health which is fragile enough already -- the bashing Sharon received during the scandal has the aging rocker concerned she may never work again and he'll have to be the breadwinner

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- five years after Angelina Jolie filed for divorce, she's still battling Brad Pitt over custody of their five youngest kids, now she's filed new court documents claiming she has proof of domestic violence against Brad and accusations like these would kill anyone else's career, but not in this case: Hollywood is 100 percent behind Brad and the sense in the industry is Angelina has weaponized the kids against Brad but Brad is very well respected in Hollywood, and most people find these new allegations hard to believe and if anything, Angie is only hurting the children and herself

* Real Housewives stars featured in the upcoming spinoff are cashing in and Bravo will pay Luann de Lesseps, Teresa Giudice and the others a sweet $200,000 for one week's work in Turks and Caicos and that's more than double what the ladies usually get for filming, plus they get a free trip to a tropical island

* American Idol could be on the chopping block because in just seven weeks the show has lost 2 million viewers and it's simple math: Idol cannot survive with its current budget and ABC has two options which are cancel the show or cut costs, which would mean hiring cheaper judges and a cheaper host to replace Ryan Seacrest and both options are being explored

* Britney Spears' beau, personal trainer Sam Asghari, shows off his toned abs in L.A. (picture)

Page 13: Palace insiders fear Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's vendetta against the British monarchy will take a shocking new turn: they'll bankroll a lurid movie about Princess Diana's death and the conspiracy theories that suggest the royal family was involved -- the rights to the movie script are owned by Hollywood producer Ben Browning, who was just hired by Harry and Meghan to run their film company Archewell Productions -- the controversial movie centers on Princess Diana's lover Dodi Fayed's father, former Harrods' boss Mohamed Al-Fayed, investigating his son's death and his belief that Dodi and Diana were murdered because she was pregnant and planning to marry, and The Firm did not want a Muslim in the royal family

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Alabama Shakes drummer Steve Johnson has been busted on charges of willful torture and abuse of a child and was also charged with cruelly beating or otherwise maltreating a child under the age of 18 -- his arrest came just a year after he was slapped with a one-year suspended sentence and two years' probation after pleading guilty to menacing his ex-wife Whitney Lee, who called him mentally unstable -- Johnson helped the Shakes score three Grammys in 2016 for their album Sound & Color but the band has been on hiatus since singer Brittany Howard started a solo career in 2018 and Steve was lost after that; he went from playing in front of 50,000 people to playing in bars again -- even if the Shakes reunite, it's highly unlikely Steve would be invited back -- Steve remains in county jail awaiting his court date and his attorneys said Mr. Johnson maintains his innocence

* Danny Masterson and his lawyers believe they are victims of anti-Scientology bias and cannot get a fair trial in his Los Angeles rape case -- celebrity attorney Tom Mesereau, who successfully defended Michael Jackson against child molestation charges two decades ago, claimed his client has been treated unfairly because of his ties to the church, and that the police or district attorney's office leaked damaging details of the case -- Danny and his lawyers feel persecuted and that everybody in Hollywood who isn't a Scientologist is after them -- LAPD Robbery and Homicide Division Capt. Jonathan Tippet said his organization is keeping a tight lid on all information surrounding the case to ensure Masterson gets a fair trial

Page 16: Mormon church officials are being accused of corporate greed for using members' charitable donations to secretly create a $100 billion tax-free fund -- James Huntsman, the son of a prominent Mormon family, is suing the church for fraud, claiming donations solicited to finance charity work were actually used to fill church coffers -- the church boasts at least 15 million members worldwide, including celebrities like Gladys Knight, Donny and Marie Osmond, Katherine Heigl, Julianne Hough, Christina Aguilera, Ryan Gosling, Amy Adams and Aaron Eckhart and many could have tithed money that ended up in the tax-free fund

Page 17: Jen Shah of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was recently fingered by the feds as the bogus businesswoman behind a multi-state fraud scheme dating back to 2012 -- the Bravo blowhard, known for her extravagant parties, designer outfits and extensive entourage, and her first assistant Stuart Smith were arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit wire fraud and conspiracy to commit money laundering -- the U.S. Justice Department alleged the Park City resident and Smith of Lehi generated and sold lead lists of innocent individuals for other members of their scheme to repeatedly scam, and claimed the greedy creeps defrauded hundreds of victims -- the terrible twosome targeted older adults and computer illiterate folks by using both telemarketing and in-person sales teams to peddle nonexistent online services and then fight the refund efforts of wronged consumers -- if convicted, Shah and Smith each face up to 50 years behind bars

Page 18: American Life

Page 20: L.A. County Sheriff Alex Villanueva triggered a cover-up scandal when he revealed his investigators determined why Tiger Woods drove off a California cliff, then refused to explain what happened, citing the golf legend's privacy -- Villanueva said the black box in the Genesis SUV that Tiger was driving when he flew off a suburban L.A. highway in the early morning helped determine the cause

* Hollywood Hookups -- Bethenny Frankel and Paul Bernon engaged, Melissa and Joe Gorga appear to have reached the finale of their marriage, Fernanda Flores and professional boxes Noel Mikaelian dating

Page 21: Britney Spears said she broke into tears after seeing bits of the new documentary about how she has been in the grips of a conservatorship for years, saying she was embarrassed by the light they put her in and she cried for two weeks and still cries sometimes

* Generous Hollywood legend Dick Van Dyke put a happy face on job seekers in Malibu when he handed out fistfuls of cash -- Dick was spotted withdrawing bills from a bank before driving to the Malibu Community Labor Exchange, a nonprofit that helps unemployed locals find day jobs and he stayed in his car as he handed out money to masked folks who were lined up to look for work

Page 22: The late Aretha Franklin left behind a royal mess of paperwork, including a newly discovered fourth will that has thrown her $80 million estate into fresh turmoil -- the eight-page document, titled The Will of Aretha Franklin, was apparently drawn up not long before her death in 2018, and was recently found among the files of the singer's onetime attorney Henry Grix along with the paperwork describing the terms of a trust but both items are stamped draft and neither has Aretha's signature but Michigan law changed seven years ago, and it made the admissibility of a document like this more flexible -- currently there's a bitter beef among Aretha's four adult sons over how their mother's assets should be divided

Page 23: The battle over Prince's $300 million fortune rages on, and the late pop star's siblings, and legal heirs, fear there won't be anything left after lawyers, accountants, administrators and the IRS take their cut -- five years after he died from a fatal fentanyl overdose without leaving a will, an avalanche of deals and court hearings have left his massive cash stash in limbo -- sadly Prince's distrust of lawyers and other professionals now means that millions will be spent paying those same people to try to sort out the mess he left behind and this could go on for a decade

Page 26: Weird Body Language -- stars cope with bizarre deformities -- Denzel Washington, Steven Tyler, Ashton Kutcher, Matthew Perry

Page 27: Lily Allen, Mark Wahlberg, Karolina Kurkova, Scar Service -- Tina Fey, Padma Lakshmi, Joaquin Phoenix

Page 32: Health Watch

* Ask the Vet -- Watch out for xylitol

Page 34: Just months after John Travolta's beloved wife, Kelly Preston, passed, the actor has been shattered by another death in the family -- his nephew Sam Travolta's badly decomposed body was found in his Wisconsin apartment last September, weeks after he died from a suspected heart attack -- John has suffered through so much loss and Sam's death was another huge blow but he's strong and has a deep faith in Scientology and the church brings him solace and comfort

Page 36: Shark Tank star Barbara Corcoran has stepped up to get a tenant in one of her buildings back on his feet -- Barbara and building co-owner Alex Rodriguez came under fire after Ryo Nagaoka's possessions were reportedly tossed while he was hospitalized with COVID-19 and when Ryo got home he found only his piano and pet tortoise in his cleaned-out crib -- emptying Ryo's apartment was necessary because it had become a health hazard and had a biocleaning crew scrub it -- Barbara donated $12,000 to a GoFundMe page for him, while A-Rod has seemingly not yet contributed anything and Barbara also said the building's management company has renovated Ryo's apartment

Page 38: Beloved game show host Peter Marshall made a miraculous recovery from COVID-19 to celebrate with friends at his 95th birthday party -- Peter was in and out of the hospital for ten weeks and he was at death's door and doctors didn't give him much of a chance but Peter beat the odds to enjoy a Zoom party attended online by Leslie Uggams, Loni Anderson, Sandy Duncan, Ruta Lee, Karen Valentine, Rich Little, JoAnne Worley, Jack Jones and more

* Accused sex freak Armie Hammer's career is in the crapper and he's beginning to believe that's where it will stay -- the kink king was fired from the thriller Billion Dollar Spy amid sexual assault allegations and the release of social media messages claiming he has dark fetishes including cannibalism -- Armie has already gotten to boot from the movie Shotgun Wedding and the series The Offer, and more trouble may be on the horizon: Armie was accused of sexual assault by a woman called Effie, who alleged the actor violently raped her and Armie's attorneys issued a statement denying the claims, saying Effie's own correspondence with Mr. Hammer undermines and refutes her outrageous allegations -- Armie has been keeping a low profile at a Caribbean resort, but fears his entire career is in trouble

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Carrie Underwood

[sinceileftyoublog]

Mina Tindle Interview: A Natural Frame

Photo credit: ©rgm

BY JORDAN MAINZER

The release of Mina Tindle’s SISTER last October was supposed to be accompanied by an ambitious live show and an hour-long film made up of visuals for its nine captivating songs. After all, these sorts of artistic deep dives are what the project of Pauline de Lassus is all about. But when it became clear last summer--the summer of COVID-19--that neither could be easily achieved or achieved any time soon, de Lassus let go of her inhibitions. Recorded and filmed during a specific time last summer in France when the virus was more under control and travel/lockdown restrictions were somewhat lifted, The LFO/Blogothèque Sessions present stripped-back versions of some songs from SISTER as well as a track that didn’t make the cut. With help from Kate Stables (This Is The Kit), de Lassus’ husband Bryce Dessner (The National), and David Chalmin, and in collaboration with French production company La Blogothèque, de Lassus presents the songs in new ways. The percussive gallop of “Fire and Sun” presents itself more in Dessner’s guitar in the live version. Vocal harmonies and guitar take the place of beats and strings on “Belle Pénitence”. A cover of Sufjan Stevens’ “Give A Little Love”, whose album version features Stevens and his quintessentially Reichian arpeggios, is all about the harmonies between de Lassus and Stables. And “Indigo”, never recorded, is buoyed by Dessner’s spritely, finger-picked guitar.

As much as these sessions have the feel of a fleeting moment--that should the group have decided to play them on, say, a different day, that they would take another shape--they’re also very much a product of place. For one, it wouldn’t have happened had de Lassus been somewhere without access to a studio, let alone with lesser restrictions. The accompanying videos--just as much a part of the release as the audio--were shot from de Lassus and Dessner’s new home in the South of France, where they moved from Paris with their child. The almost mystical, beautiful quality of the surroundings makes me think of what de Lassus told me over the phone last month about “the fantasy of having a live show.” With a camera capturing moments where the group decided to just go for it, it’s got that live quality, but like the best “live albums,” make you hungry to experience the music in person for yourself.

The LFO/Blogothèque Sessions was released on Friday via 37d03d, the “people” label. (“They give their artists a lot of freedom and love,” de Lassus said. “They’re amazing...I don’t think I would have put the record out if it wasn’t with them.”) Read our conversation about adapting the songs to a new setting, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Did you always want to do stripped-down versions of these songs, or was the occasion of lockdown restrictions being lifted the inspiration?

Pauline de Lassus: Something I love doing is having nice visuals or working on videos. I had a big project for this record, a film the length of the 9 songs--I wanted to make a movie. But it was a totally different object, an homage to [Norman] McLaren. I wanted to do a one-hour long video. Everything was cancelled because of COVID, and I ended up doing all the videos myself. Do it yourself, like back in the days. I chose women I love dancing, and it was nice to work on. But it’s really nice when it’s professional. I knew there would not be any shows for this record--maybe in a few years. So I had the idea of trying to capture that. I did it with basically family--Kate Stables, Bryce is my husband, and David is a really close friend. Doing it in the safest environment possible. It was really nice.

SILY: Was it natural to strip down these songs? How did you adapt them to the setting?

Pauline: We just played them. We kind of worked on it with Bryce a bit. He’s really good at that. When I got the chance to tour with The National, I saw they record an album and know all the songs, because they work on it for months. We did maybe four days of rehearsal in Paris to start the tour, and that was it, and after four days, they played the songs over and over. There were like 50 of them. By the end they went on stage and just played the music. I remember thinking, “Woah.” My way of doing it would be to overplay or overwork them to try to get the right version instead of just playing the music. It’s more the fact that they play it a lot that it turned into something they like. Because these songs were so minimal, we didn’t have to sing too much. 

SILY: It seems like certain qualities of the songs you kept but achieved them in a different way, like the forward gallop in the drum beat on the SISTER version of “Fire and Sun”, you get more in the guitar here, whereas for “Belle Pénitence”, the emphasis is more on the vocal harmonies and the guitar than on the strings and the beats like on SISTER. Did that, too, kind of come naturally from just playing them?

Pauline: I think we just played them. I love making records. It’s one of the things I love doing the most. I don’t mind if it takes 5 years, and I don’t mind a quick record, but working in the studio is a really different process. You can add all the things you want. It’s kind of magic. These days, it’s not on tape, so you can erase the minute after. It’s really an experimental place.

Playing them [live], I have one of the greatest musicians and guitar players in Bryce. He can get the essence of the song really easily. And the soul of Kate, we love singing together; every time, something happens. I think it was a way to sing with more space. We weren’t trying to mimic any existing version, which is great, because I’ve been touring with Mina Tindle for years where the expectation was I am trying to mimic the record. The up-tempo song had to be up-tempo. This time, it was extremely free. It was really nice, because what I needed was really little. Two instruments, two singers, that’s it. We wanted to play them acoustic, which is sometimes a challenge.

SILY: What you said about playing them with more space really stood out to me on the EP version of “Indian Summer”. You have this piano ballad as opposed to something that’s more all over the place.

Pauline: I love both! In the past, I’ve been slow at making records. Sometimes, I just have the demo, and it’s the first draft, and it’s good. That’s why I like the idea of having a live recording, because it has to be straight and honest right away. In a way, I feel like you interpret it differently, also, because it’s one shot. Maybe we had two shots, but there was no editing.

SILY: How did you get around not having Sufjan’s presence on “Give A Little Love”?

Pauline: When I sing that song, I always try to be at the level of his song. He’s the sweetest person, so he couldn’t care less--he’d give me freedom to adapt the song [even] metal or AC/DC style. He’s a free mind. It’s sweet because I’m more shy when it’s my songs, but I love covering songs that I love. [Feist and I] did this tribute to Lhasa de Sela, who is one of my favorite singers ever. She passed away when she was really young. We had a love for her music and ended up making a show that we played in London and France and Ireland and Berlin, where we were covering her songs. It was one of my favorite things to do. It’s an ode to my love to music, whereas when I sing my songs, I feel more shy or intimidated to open up. Sometimes, I really wonder why I open my heart. When it’s someone else, I feel happy they’re connecting.

SILY: What’s the story behind the new song on this release, “Indigo”?

Pauline: “Indigo” is the black sheep of the record. It was many people’s favorite song, but I had 5 versions of it I couldn’t choose from. When I ended up not putting it on SISTER, I was really happy. I felt relieved. I didn’t know where to put it. I tried to mix it with different people, but it was never right. Kate had sung that song with me many times, so she knew it, and this was the right way to do it. I felt totally fine presenting that version. This EP is a way to free up any vision. It is what it is. That’s why it was on that record, because we really wanted to sing that song together. It’s a story of a separation, if I remember correctly. Losing each other. I remember being obsessed with the idea of losing someone you really love. It was not my personal life; fortunately, I was doing pretty okay. But having a kid is a total volcano in your life, and I was looking at many people around me who seemed to not be okay, living through that experience, so it was a song about how you can tear apart when something’s supposed to make you closer.

SILY: You could have a whole rarities release of different versions of “Indigo” as your next release.

Pauline: Yeah. I don’t think anybody would like to listen to it. [laughs] The same song four times.

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art of this release?

Pauline: It’s Kate and I dancing. We were really happy because we did [the recording] in two days. We had an extra day with her, so we did some stuff for her, and we were just dancing. There was a huge storm--the weather where we are is crazy. It can rain and be super shiny in twenty minutes. So we had this crazy summer storm and started dancing as if it was a mirror and improvising the dancing. We are not dancers. [laughs] But we had a lot of fun. This red window is the typical colors of the architecture in the region. It’s actually in my house. I’ve already taken so many pictures of people inside and outside that window, because the window reflects the landscape behind. It’s so beautiful. It’s like a natural frame, and whatever you put inside, it’s kind of logical.

SILY: Are you planning or able to do live shows or live streams?

Pauline: As I told you, I intended to do way bigger or ambitious thing at first, because I kind of hate videos for music--or I never watch them. For me, the music is not more important, but enough. So when you do videos, it’s nice when you have something unique. We couldn’t do that movie I was thinking about, so putting money into trying to make a beautiful live performance was it. I was happy with it.

A livestream, maybe under certain conditions, but it’s a really strange period where even more than before, while I’m happy to give and share what I’m creating, but privacy is more something I’m into these days.

SILY: Livestreams do have that bedroom aspect.

Pauline: It’s kind of an exhibitionist thing I’ve never had. I’ve always felt conflicted about it with social media. It’s like opening your house to people. I’m not judging people who do it--you can do it really healthily--but I don’t feel comfortable. So far, I’ve said no to a lot of stuff.

SILY: Some of the best ones I’ve seen have skirted the home recording feel because they’re recorded at an actual venue and professionally edited. It’s not really live, but it’s at least for the time being something a little bit in between.

Pauline: We should look forward to live shows coming back, not necessarily doing bad performances. Like with social media, we now see 30-second music extracts, like on TikTok. The quality is not getting better. We don’t have to share everything the universe is offering to us. Sometimes it’s better to hold back and wait. That’s totally my point, though. Of course, when you’re in your 20s, you should do whatever you want to do, but at this point in my life, I don’t feel the urge to constantly express myself. I’m just old, you know? [laughs]

SILY: What else have you been up to lately?

Pauline: I’m doing a lot of things not related to music. I’m illustrating a book that’s more for children. It’s around music. I’m busy spending my days painting and drawing, and I love it. It’s creative, but it’s nice to take a break from music. The final collection is gonna be really cool.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

Pauline: Besides two children’s books a week. You can see there’s a big switch in illustrations for kids books. You can spend a whole day at the library in the kid’s section. It’s so impressive and beautiful.

My knowledge in feminism was really bad, so the last 6 months, I’ve been reading everything I can on the subject and listening to podcasts. It’s basically my routine. I thought I wasn’t feminist, but I am.

[searchingwardrobes]

Start of Time: 1/?

Happy birthday, @teamhook​ ! You have been a faithful reader of my fics from long before I came over to tumblr, and I appreciate your support so much! As a matter of fact, you were the first one to encourage me to get a tumblr blog. Anyway, I hope you have a marvelous day, my friend.

You told me this Gabrielle Aplin song was one of your favorites that reminded you of CS, so I wanted to incorporate it into a fic. Then, just a few days ago I watched a Hallmark Christmas movie (yes, I’m already watching them, don’t judge) called a Christmas to Remember. It had Elle McKinnon in it, who played young Alice Jones on Once, and the whole thing gave me CS vibes. Then I realized the song really fit the movie’s plot, and this fic was born. Unlike the movie, however, this doesn’t happen at Christmas. I also couldn’t finish it in a one-shot, so here we go, another MC/WIP. It’s worth it for you though, @teamhook​. I hope you enjoy it!

Many thanks to the CSRT discord chat for helping me brainstorm parts of this, especially @shireness-says​ for giving me the idea to make Emma part of a rock band. I was having a very difficult time coming up with a band name that hasn’t been used yet in the fandom, when the name of a band from my college came to mind - Wendy Sews it On. It suddenly hit me what that band name is a reference too, and I was giddy with excitement!

Summary: Killian and his son are driving through a bad snow storm when they find a disoriented woman walking down the road. The question is, how can they help her get home when she has no idea who she is?

Side note: Has anyone else written from the point of view of someone who can’t remember her name? Well it’s hard, ya’ll - lol!

Rating: T

Trigger warning: Alice Jones appears in this fic and both Alice and Henry are both Killian’s adopted children with Milah. Henry isn’t Emma’s. Positive past Millian. No Neal.

Words: about 2,500 in this chapter

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals::@snowbellewells @kmomof4@jennjenn615 @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook@kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree​@whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @winterbaby89​ @distant-rose@shireness-says​ @xhookswenchx​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @branlovestowrite​ @welllpthisishappening​ @stahlop​ @hollyethecurious​

Oh today I’m just a drop of water and I’m running down the mountain side. Come tomorrow I’ll be in the ocean. I’ll be rising with the morning tide.

The road stretched before Emma’s tiny yellow bug, she was sure, for miles upon miles of the thick forests of northern Maine. Yet all she could see out her windshield was about a car’s length in front of her through the thick swirling snow. Her tires kept sliding on the slick roads, and more than once she had trouble keeping the car pointed in the right direction. It didn’t help that she was completely and utterly lost, her GPS losing signal at some point miles back.

Emma cursed rural Maine, cursed the snow, and even cursed Regina for suggesting this week of r&r to begin with. A cabin with all the amenities next to a spa sounded like heaven. Or maybe anything secluded sounded like heaven - a place to get her head on right again, maybe even write a new song.

She just wasn’t sure it would be a love song like Regina and the record label was hoping for. She added Walsh to her list of stuff to curse.

Her headlights, for a brief moment, illuminated a sign up ahead: “Welcome to Storybrooke.” She cursed again as she squinted down at her phone which still mocked her with the little swirling icon and the word “buffering.”

“Come on,” she muttered. She started to type in “Misthaven Resort and Spa” again, glancing from her phone screen to the road and back again. She knew it was dangerous to use her phone while driving, especially in weather like this, but if she didn’t figure out where the hell she was, she might run out of gas and die out here in the snow anyway.

It was a cost benefit analysis, really.

God, she needed to start spending time with people besides Regina and Walsh. She hadn’t even seen her former bandmates since this solo career train had catapulted out of the station.

Anna would have loved that mixed metaphor. It was the kind of line Emma’s red-headed, bubbly, almost little sister would have put into a song. Like the Beatles, every member of Wendy Sewed it On wrote songs for the band. Anna’s were quirky and upbeat, Elsa’s were soaring, epic ballads, Ruby’s were tongue in cheek and driving.

And Emma . . . well, fans said her songs were sad and haunting, but deep. Wendy Sewed it On had their biggest hits with Emma’s songs, even though it was Elsa who belted them out. Being all alone on that stage, laying her soul bare with those lyrics . . .

Emma’s thoughts were cut off and a scream flew out of her mouth as a wolf bounded onto the road in front of her. It was all a blur after that: breaking glass, her continuing screams, pine trees surrounding her on all sides as she plowed off the road and down an embankment of snow.

There’s a ghost upon the moor tonight. Now it’s in our house. When you walked into the room just then it’s like the sun came out.

A severe winter storm warning has been issued for central Aroostook County. Visibility will be extremely low, roads impass-

Killian switched off the radio in his pickup, not wanting to alarm Henry. His windshield wipers were on the highest setting, his lights on bright, and for now, he could still make out the road far enough ahead of them that he was fairly confident they would get home long before the storm reached its peak. Part of him was second guessing bringing a ten year old along on this call, but Henry had been so excited at the prospect of helping deliver the foal at the Nolan farm.

“Dad,” Henry said, picking at the aluminum foil Mary Margaret had used to wrap up a plate of her famous chocolate chip cookies, “why doesn’t Uncle David work with you anymore?”

“Well, he and Mary Margaret had been saving up for years to buy that farm. I always knew horses were his dream, not the animal shelter.” He glanced from the road to grin at his son. “And you’re dying to have one of those cookies, aren’t you?”

Henry’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?”

Killian laughed. “I’ve been a dad for a decade now. I have a sixth sense.”

“So can I have one?”

“No, you have to share with Alice.”

“Aw man,” Henry pouted, but it was short lived. Both of his children were extremely curious and regularly peppered him with questions. “Why couldn’t Uncle David just deliver the foal himself? He knows animals.”

“Because it was breech - that means it was upside down inside the mother horse. David’s not a vet, so he called me.”

Henry arched his brows. “And they pay you in cookies?”

Killian chuckled again. “David and Mary Margaret, yes.”

“They are good cookies,” Henry agreed, taking a big whiff of the plate in his lap. “Maybe Alice wouldn’t mind if we - DAD!”

Killian saw the figure in the road at the same moment his son did, so before the word even left Henry’s lips, Killian was swerving to avoid the person. The roads were wet and slick enough to send his tires sliding, and if Killian didn’t have so much experience driving in such dangerous conditions, they may have ended up in the ditch. When the truck finally came to a stop, he turned first to Henry.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked him, running a hand nervously over the boy.

“Yeah,” Henry gasped, “I’m good.” The boy twisted around in his seat. “What was that?”

That was a good question. It had looked like a person, but who would be out in this weather? Unless they were in trouble. Killian quickly unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Stay here,” he instructed Henry, giving him a steely look lest his overly curious oldest child be tempted to disobey. Thankfully, Henry nodded, his face a mask of intensity.

After Killian exited the vehicle, he could clearly see a woman stumbling around in the middle of the road. He approached her cautiously, fully aware that a man appearing before the woman in the middle of the forest could be frightening to say the least.

“Are you okay?”

She turned then, and he could tell from the blank expression on her face that she was in shock. She had obviously experienced some sort of trauma, and his heart plummeted at the thought. He walked slowly closer. The woman was now turning in a circle, unsteady on her feet as if she might be inebriated. Her gaze was lifted to the tops of the trees, as if she were trying to make sense of her surroundings. When he was close enough, Killian reached out tentatively to rest his hand on her upper arm. She was wearing a red leather jacket; not the smartest choice of outerwear for snow like this.

“I’d like to help you,” he said in the same gentle voice he used on injured animals. “What are you doing out here?”

She blinked, as if trying to focus on his face. Her skin was almost alabaster, her hair completely coated in a layer of snow, and he wondered how long she’d been out here in the elements. He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She looked down at it, almost in confusion. When she did, he noticed the blood matting the top of her head.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered.

“I - am?” she whispered back.

He smiled, relieved to hear her voice finally. “Aye, you have a rather nasty gash on your head there. Were you in an accident?”

“Was I?” her voice sounded thready and far away as she reached a trembling hand up to touch her head. “Ow, that hurts,” she gasped. Yet she kept patting at the wound frantically.

“I’m not surprised, so let’s stop touching it shall we?” he took her slender, ice cold hand in his to still her nervous movements. “What’s your name? Can I call someone for you?”

“I . . . I . . . “ she began to sway as her words turned to incoherent mutterings, then she crumpled against Killian’s chest. He scooped her up in his arms, turning his gaze nervously to the sky as the snow fell in fat, thick flakes. He followed the tail lights back to the truck. He had no choice but to take the mysterious woman home with him before the storm got worse.

**********************************************************

She awoke in a strange bed in a strange room with a strange little girl staring at her. She hurt everywhere, but her head especially throbbed with a sharp, jabbing pain. The sunlight pouring through the window made her wince, and the image of the little girl sitting at the end of the bed went fuzzy.

“This is my room,” the child told her, “but you can use it until you get better.”

She looked around her, evidence of a child everywhere from the dollhouse in the corner to the childish artwork tacked all over the walls. What was she doing here?

“My name is Alice,” the girl continued, bouncing on the bed a bit, making its injured occupant wince. “I’m seven. How old are you?”

“Alice,” another voice gently rebuked from the doorway, “let our patient rest, please.”

“Okay, daddy,” the little girl sighed, but obeyed, skipping out of the room.

A man drew closer to the bed, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest, the urge to flee overwhelming. He lifted both hands, slowing his approach, a gentle look in his eyes. It didn’t help - she didn’t know this man or where she was.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in my family’s home,” he explained, “my name is Killian Jones and my son and I found you wandering in the road. We’re in the midst of a bad storm, so I had no choice but to bring you here.”

She had never been so confused in her life, and she let her head fall back on the pillow. A sharp pain caused her to cry out, and she reached up to find a bandage on the top of her head.

“What happened to me?”

“Well,” Killian told her patiently, “you had a gash on your head and some other cuts and bruises. I bandaged you up.”

“You’re a doctor?”

He smiled, and despite the situation, she found it charming. “A vet, but the principles are largely the same. Nevertheless, I’ve called the town doctor and he’ll be coming out once the roads are cleared.”

“The roads?”

“We’re snowed in.”

She moaned. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and shame washed over her. She couldn’t let this stranger see her cry.

“Listen,” he said softly, “you were hurt and wandering around. Do you remember what happened?”

She lifted both hands to cover her face. “No, I have no idea where I am or how I got here.”

“Well, how about your name? Let’s start there.”

“My name is -” Suddenly, her chest tightened and she couldn’t breathe. The room was spinning. “Oh my God. I don’t know! I don’t know my name!”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay,” Killian soothed, laying a hand tentatively on her shoulder, “you hit your head, so it’s understandable. I’m sure it will all come back to you soon.”

How could he be so damn calm? She didn’t know who she was!

“I . . . I . . . “ she looked down at herself and saw a pajama top covered in pink roses, “I’m in pajamas.”

The man smiled again in that way that made her heart flip like a damn teenager. “And you look good in them, so that’s a win.”

“I hate pink,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. “And flowery shirts.”

Killian’s eyebrows quirked up. They were quite expressive, she noticed. “Well there you go, you remember that!”

“Wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, “how did I get into pajamas?” Surely she wasn’t wandering the road in her pjs.

His eyes grew large and he lifted both hands in a defensive gesture. “It wasn’t me! My friend Mary Margaret did that. She’s a volunteer down at the hospital.”

“I helped!” Alice called out, popping up from the foot of the bed. “Cause I want to be a nurse. Or an artist. Or a pilot.”

“Alice Milah Jones,” her father scolded, “I thought I told you to give our patient some peace and quiet?”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

Killian looked back at her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime? Anything I can get you?”

She bit down on her lip, those damn tears threatening to spill over again. “No. I think I just want to go back to sleep.”

He frowned, the pity on his face clear. She hated pity. How did she know that? And that she hated pink? And flowered shirts? But not her own damn name?

“Okay,” he told her softly, patting her foot gently through the down comforter on the bed. He was handsome too, she noted. Dark hair, a strong jaw covered in nicely trimmed scruff, bright blue eyes tinged with a bit of sadness that somehow made them more piercing. Suddenly, taking him in from head to toe and thinking of quirky but sweet little Alice, she was sure that she was in a safe place. How she knew she wasn’t sure, but it settled deep within her and took root.

Killian left, closing the door silently behind him. She slid beneath the warm blankets as her eyes fluttered closed. She dreamed of snow and blue eyes and strong arms but not of who she was or where she came from.

[fmdxsujiarchive]

summary: suji answers the interview questions and showcases a remix of knight’s love shot date: sometime in july word count: 1,344 words ooc note: famedbase our song audition 

when gold star first offers her the opportunity to be part of this new program, she is a bit hesitant. there was already so much on her plate: filming for hospital playlist, fuse’s comeback, preparation for her own solo album and so on. however, her manager reminded her how it’d be a good opportunity for her to try something new as well as push herself, and she came to the conclusion that he was right. upon receiving a brief rundown of the program, suji knew right away that it was going to be a challenge for her. she had difficulties writing songs without a sudden flash of inspiration so this program could be a good change for her. 

after a bit more convincing from her manager, she eventually says yes.

sitting at her dining table, she sets the camera in front of her, checking her reflection one last time before pressing record. “hello, i’m fuse’s suji.” she introduced herself before moving onto the list of questions that have been given to her. 

“what inspires me? well, at first, i started writing songs because i needed an outlet for myself.” biting down on her bottom lip, she pauses for a moment. she’s never fully disclosed the personal slump she went through back in 2017 in detail. however, it was also when she first started getting into songwriting. she was afraid that it would worry her fans unnecessarily especially since 2017 was a year filled with fuse activities, hence her personal slump. but she also knew that although it may have been a difficult time for her, it was mostly an enjoyable year for her fans. “when i was personally going through a difficult time,” she begins, deciding to leave the details out, “it’s writing songs that helped me get through it. it’s the little things in life that inspire me to write. for example, i’ll be watching a movie, and a single scene from that movie may push me. or i could just be sitting at home and look outside my window, and the beautiful scenery from my window may inspire me. nothing too extravagant, i promise,” she finishes with a light chuckle. 

the next question is difficult. “my favorite song? it’s like asking me if i love my mom or dad more.” with a slight pout, she hums in deep thought, going through the list of songs that have been released so far to the public. “overall, i think in love with someone else holds a special place in my heart. it’s my first title track that was also fully written and composed by me. when it got revealed to the public, i was nervous but also really excited that people got to hear not just fuse’s suji but just baek suji.” these are all words that she’s already said during her solo interview last year when the mini album was released. she wonders if she should add how she was relieved that the song was well received by the public, but she bites down on her tongue. she doesn’t want people thinking she’s so concerned about charting though she must admit that she does think about it quite often. “however, i must say that to my youth is also a song i can’t leave out for this question. silhouette’s youngjoo was behind the beautiful composition while i wrote the lyrics. after it was released, i got so many messages from people who told me how the lyrics were a form of comfort for them, and the feeling of hearing that is indescribable. there’s no words out there that could accurately portray how i felt after hearing people tell me this.” 

“there’s so many skilled songwriters out there that i can’t possibly list them all. of course the many that help compose fuse’s variety of songs are people that i look up to. i relied a lot on our in-house producers at first, and i still do! they never hesitate to help me out. then there’s also the talented idol songwriters! i think it’s a well known fact how much i look up to saebyul unnie and how i continue to dream of being as good as her. i’m personally close to wish’s vivienne as well. sooyeon is very talented,” she genuinely chuckles for probably the first time since the beginning. her nerves are starting to calm down upon talking about her friends. “my member minjung has a different style than i do when it comes to the music she makes, but i definitely respect that. it’s a style that i don’t think i could ever pull off.” 

what are your goals as a songwriter? she wonders if the staff members are going to go through her whole audition video because it’s getting awfully long at this point. she’d like to keep her answers short, but she can’t help it. there’s just a lot to say on this matter it seems. “from the beginning, i think my goal was always to make music that other people could relate to. i like relaying emotions through my music. when someone hears any one of my songs, i hope that they can feel something from it. whether that’s sadness, comfort, frustration, and so on. i want my songs to portray a story that can be responded to. that’s all i wish for.”

the last question has her thinking even longer. what does suji want to achieve from being on this show? “i believe this show will be a challenge to me. i’ve never been good with writing songs on a whim if that makes sense. but this show will have time limits; i’m going to have to write in a fixed period of time and hopefully be satisfied with what i put out. i remember going through the same thing when i was participating in writing go, and it was truly difficult for me. i’d like to be able to leave with an experience that helps me grow as a songwriter. as a songwriter, i need to be pushed out of my comfort zone, and i think this program will provide that for me.” 

with a last smile, she turns off the camera and lets out a deep breath. at least that was over. 

// 

the other requirement for the program was a remix of an existing song. something that fits along her music style. what was her music style anyway? the simple answer would be ballads. she wonders if her music style would survive on the program? would people be interested in hearing a ballad over and over again? she’s been experimenting with some new things, but the public hasn’t heard it yet. she’ll probably try them out throughout the show if she can, but she comes to the conclusion that sticking with what she does best and what is representative of how the public thinks of her at the moment would be good for now. 

she picks love shot from knight after going through so many tracks. she had set her mind on wanting to transpose a dance track into a ballad mainly because that would make the contrast most obvious. the composition doesn’t take too long because the piano base isn’t all too difficult even for someone like suji who’s piano skills have been dormant for a while. she can’t recall the last time she’s fully composed something like this instead of sticking to chords or whatever was already generated through a computer. 

she decides to film it in the studio that the piece would have been composed in. suji doesn’t have her own studio for now though she’s hoping to turn the empty room in her apartment into one. she just hasn’t had the time. leaning over, she turns the camera on and turns on her composition to begin singing. it takes a couple of tries for her to be completely satisfied with how her vocals turn out, but she’s done. 

monitoring the video, she nods in content. it’s good. she likes it, and she hopes that whomever watches it does as well.

[amiloudenough]

Nameless - Trigger Warning. This story contains sexual assault

Dear -----,

Even your name feels like a privilege you don’t deserve. Should you stay nameless, or should I out you to the world? Scream from the tallest building what you did to me?  What you’ve done to so many just like me?

Apart of me wants your memory to stay tucked in the dark pocket of my brain where you live now, only seeing the light when I am triggered by a hotel room or when men buttoned tightly in business suits that resemble you linger when they look at me.

Another part of me thinks my story matters, that saying the truth out loud will make it real, tangible, throwable, crushable, flammable and maybe...healable.

I was newly 20 when we met. I thought I was an adult. My freedom was still new, my hips still narrow, my childhood trauma still unrecognizable - hidden in the basement of my chest. I wouldn’t go looking for it for years.

I would spend weekends at my friends 1920’s built studio in the beating heart of Seattle. The hallways smelt like a dusty thrift store. The dark green carpet and scuffed walls held memories of tenants for 90 years.

My friend has long red colored hair to the small of her back, she taught me to buy furniture from thrift stores and how to steal accessories from Nordstrom. We share clothes and dance at underage clubs in the city. It seems I am her only friend.

We would laugh little girl giggles listening to her neighbors fight through the wall. We would share red wine from the bottle before going out in small skirts and knee high socks. We got into bars by over lining our eyes and flirting with bartenders outside while they smoked cigarettes. Most nights, we stumble back in passed two and fall into each other on her bed.

This friend told me about you one night in the winter. I remember the holiday lights lining the streets, I remember the white sweater I wore - my mother bought it for me the previous Christmas.

We sit in the back of an old Chinese restaurant. Sharing the entire place with only two other customers. The bartenders never ask us for our IDs. They know we’re underage...they also know we’ll spend money.  We drink long island ice teas, the only drink we knew how to order.

She tells me about her new gig being a stripper. I’m entertained. I’m envious. She seems sexy and mysterious in this moment. She tells me about making $700 in one night. She tells me her stripper friends told her about this new thing called “sugaring.” “He pays me just to go to a movie! he paid me $200 just for a date!” She says. My friend explains that there is a website filled with rich men who pay young girls to do various things like have sex and go on vacations with them. 

Getting attention from men had been second nature to me, I was good at it whether I wanted to be or not. I thought of my mothers friend from work being in our apartment when I walked through the door after school. I was eleven, my mother hadn't arrived home from work yet. She had asked him to look at the desktop computer. “You must have a lot of boyfriends at school…don't you?” He nods up at me from under the computer desk. I realized then that I wasn’t a child but a girl. I was something to be looked at and consumed.

“No way!” I say, shifting in the bar stool. My friends red hair matches her red lipstick. Suddenly, I felt too far from home. “I’ll show you!” She says and pulls out her phone. She texts you. She tells you she has a friend she wants you to meet.   You walk into the Chinese restaurant some time later. I’m slurring my words by the time you arrive, there are four empty long island glasses melting onto the bar counter. We’re the only two in there now. You walk confidently, relaxed…Like you’ve come to meet two girls twenty five years younger than you before.

Your hair is too straight, peekaboos of grey mixed in with jet black. You have small lips and tiny teeth. Your neck has started to sag with age but your face lacks wrinkles of a man your age. You look at me as if you are looking through me, as if you are testing my boundaries, seeing if it was safe to trust your dirty little secret with me. Unfortunately, it was.

“wow he’s so normal! He’s not a creep!” I whisper to my friend while you order us a round of drinks. You hid it so well. I flip my hair at you, apply lipgloss in the bathroom, regret not wearing something sexier. Suddenly, the white sweater doesn’t seem to fit.

I want you to like me. I’m begging for your approval. Lucky me, I get it.

We meet up just the two of us after texting for a few weeks at a Cheesecake Factory. I am embarrassed being out in public with you. Do people know what we’re doing? I see an old friend from high school serving tables near us and I almost run out. “Calm down. We’ll say I’m your uncle.” You laugh, the way a dad laughs at his toddler falling trying to walk - like it’s cute how worried I am.

I applied too much makeup, I’m trying to look older. I’m wearing a fake fur vest and heels I can’t walk in. You ask me about my parents, my friends, where I live, you ask if I’m in college. I tell you the intimate details of my life, spilling out all over the booth like you slipped truth serum in my drink. I tell you about my poetry, about my mothers alcoholism, my fathers absence, about my dreams of getting a college degree. You listen with eye contact, the way a therapist does. You nod and sit still in silence, waiting to hear more. You reach across the table and touch my arm. You tell me you want to mentor me and pay for some of my college. You say that it would bring you joy to help me reach my goals. I don't touch my food. The waiter clears our plates. You slide your American Express into the leather pocket next to the bill and tell me how much money you’d give me to have sex with you.

I ride in your car after we finish eating and leave my car parked in the cheesecake factory parking lot. I watch it out the window wondering if its too late to open the door and jump out.

“You know what?!” You say pulling out of the lot. We’re driving to the nearest hotel. You already have the cash in an envelope in your glove box. I would see you reach over me and grab it when we arrive to the hotel. “What?” I ask. “I think you are my muse! I write poetry too and you have inspired me to write, you’re my muse!” I’m flattered by the compliment, how did you know I always wanted to be someone’s Edie to their Andy? I shed myself at the door of the hotel. I don’t find myself until a couple hours later when I am dressed again and have $500 cash in my purse. Once I do find myself I’m surprised at how great I feel. “It was soooo easy!” I tell my friend on the phone. “I know!” She says. We giggle on the phone my entire drive home. I ignore the smell of your sweat coming through my clothes. I have just sold my body for the first time.

You text me good morning and good night. You check up on my day every other day. I send you pictures of myself and receive compliments back of how beautiful I am. We meet late night in candle lit lounges or hotel bars for drinks and every time I shed myself at the door once the hotel key clicks. I am hundreds of dollars richer the next day and all I had to do was shed my body and watch my soul crawl away.

You set up your laptop in each hotel room and I wonder if you are video taping but I never ask. You bring a backpack full of sex toys that you use on me without asking. You put your fingers and tongue and body places I don’t want you to. You pull me into to lay on your cold clammy chest, and I rest my hands on your rubber belly. You put on Japanese porn and ask me to relieve you while you watch it. You take pictures of us together and put them into a folder titled “Tori” in your phone - incase you need proof I consented. I smile in the pictures, often my bare shoulders showing, hotel sheets behind us, while I fight a war within myself. My eyes are always blood shot because I am always drunk. I ignore the countless other files titled with other names like “Heather” and “Shelby.”

You give me psychological tests, tell me my Meyers Briggs results, ask me about my classes, tell me what you think I should major in. You like to read me your awful poetry and I cringe at the warmth on my neck as you whisper your ballads too close.

You tell me you love me for the first time while you cry on the phone. You’re sad your other girlfriend broke your heart. I talk you through it. I comfort and coo to you like you are a small child. You tell me through hysterics that I am the only person that makes you feel better. This makes me feel important. You call me honey, send me poetry books in the mail, send me pictures of yourself while on vacation. I ask you for money to go to Mexico, LA, to pay my rent, my tuition and my car payment. You do. So I keep coming back. I send you sweet texts and pictures of myself. I share my poetry with you and give you insider details to my daily life. You help me make up lies to tell my friends when they wonder where I am. “Real friends don’t judge you baby.” You tell me in a hotel room chair by the window.

I’m special, because you tell me I am. I’m special because you give me money. I am special because you need me.

You ask me to go to Vegas with you twice and I say yes and then no. Both times. I can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck so far away from home with you. When I am with you I feel like I am walking slowly on pins and needles. Your gaze feels violating. You don’t care that waiters stare, that women your age in the bar ask “how do you two know each other?!” through giggles.

I hate holding your hand in public. I drink swigs from a vodka bottle in my glove box before I go to meet you, to ease the nerves, to forget what I’m there for.

You take me to Victoria Secret and make me try on lingerie sets. You tell me to come out into the hallway so you can see. I’m mortified as I spin in front of you. I see the sale associate make circles on the floor with her foot. You buy me the lingerie set and I walk away while you pay at the counter. I am looking over my shoulder for any familiar faces. I am thinking of lies I can tell if I run into a family member, an old teacher, anyone who knows my other personality.

Each time I pull open my drawer and see the jeweled pink panties and matching bra, my chest tightens. I eventually throw it away because it feels as if you are touching me all over again with every time they are on my body.

When I ask you if we can use a condom after I start seeing someone regularly, you ask me why I don’t trust you. You do a puppy dog face that makes my gut drop, you say “you know I love you bareback. You know I get tested, I just wish you just trusted me...” I decide I’m wrong for not trusting you. I don't bring it up again.

You ask if you can take me on a ferry to Bainbridge island. I agree, I needed the money.

I have told you that I don’t do drugs. I have told you I don’t like being out of control, that it scares me. You nod understanding, tell me “I know, I know.” You repeat stories of you getting high on MDMA on business trips and how the sex high is “so good!” I still refuse to do them with you.

At dinner on Bainbridge island you pull out two small red colored pills with cartoon characters stamped into them. You take one while I look. “Guess I’ll be alone getting high then!” You say, swallowing the pill and grinning at me.

I think I am a consenting adult on a vacation with my much older, married, kind-of boyfriend who pays me each time I sleep with him. I think that I am in charge on all of our encounters. I’m convinced that society has this whole sex worker thing wrong - that this is a two way street, that I want you to offer me drugs ten more times after I say no the first ten times.

I think that you taking the drugs in front of me was about what you wanted, not about what you wanted me to do.

My heart races after you swallow the pill, I text my friend - ask her what the red pills do. She tells me it’s just ecstasy and it’ll be ok. I copy you, take mine with a swig of wine.

The car ride home from dinner I’m already buzzing. I turn the radio up loud and play a song by the spinners that I no longer listen to. I stick my head out of the window and sing “I’ll be arouuuuund.” When we get back to the house you rented for us you parade your bag of pills around me. I feel so good, I beg you for another. You give me one. I catch myself in a mirror and don't recognize the reflection. I can only see a fully black eye, the brown of my eye has disappeared behind my pupil.

I lose myself soon after that in a cyclone of hallucinations and electronic music you play on the stereo. I see cartoon colored objects floating around the room while you sweat on top of me. I don’t remember how we got to the bed upstairs or how my clothes came off.

I am too high to make a sound. I am too high to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. I am too high to focus on what is happening to my body. I slip in and out of reality for hours, I’m not sure when the sex stops and when the light begins to peak through the blinds. I’m not sure I slept.

We gather our things around the house silently. I feel dirty. My limbs are still vibrating. The drugs are still pulsing through my veins, and I wish I never took any.  My hair is curled in various places and my swim suit is in a wet heap near the bathroom. I vaguely remember being in the hot tub.

Finally I say, “That was crazy.”  I’m hoping to get some clues about the night before. “Well, you barley talked…you were silent most of the night.” you say.

I was voiceless.

You offer me a breakfast sandwich on the ferry home and I refuse. A breakfast sandwich and the hundreds of dollars you will wire me later that day doesn't seem like payment enough for what I gave away in that twenty four hours.

It takes me longer to find myself this time. I search for days and it seems I lost apart of myself on Bainbridge island. Maybe you accidentally packed the part of me I’m missing in your suitcase, maybe you took it when you were on top of me all night, maybe I gave it to you. Maybe I won’t ever see it again.

I hide the memory of our night together to the darkest part of me that I can find. I zip it up tightly hoping it never finds it way out. It will find its way to the surface of course, as all of our time together will.

I color that night in humor, laughing with my friends about how high I was. I color it in guilt, saying I consented, I asked for it. After all, I went with you willingly. After all, we had a “relationship.” I color it in silence, I don’t talk about it, don’t think about it - hold it down in the dark space for as long as it will stay.

Do you justify what you did? Have you found a way to sleep at night? Have you found someone with a small voice and a shaky foundation who will easily let you in and stay a while? Do you ignore the way she can’t keep eye contact? The way she shakes slightly at dinner?

Have you practiced and perfected your act? You’ve got that caring way you look at someone when they share their trauma down. You’ve found a way to pull out women’s stories from their body the way Ursula pulls out Ariels voice box. Once you have them, you use them to your advantage - pushing every boundary and seeing what you could safely cross.

It’s easier to cross young girls with alcoholic mothers and absent fathers, turns out you get away with it.

Your daughter is only three years younger than I was when you met me. Does she wonder why you come home in the quietest part of the night smelling of hotel liquor and perfume? Do you wipe your hands clean of the shame on your way home? I wonder if you look at her and see the 17 year old baby sitter you raped. The one you bragged about to me. You told me you were in love with her, that society was wrong for keeping you two apart.

You must take showers and scrub off your night telling yourself it was consensual, that the twenty year old girl you left in the hotel sheets wanted it. You must tell yourself that she was closing her eyes the whole time because she liked it.

I have decided that you will stay nameless.

Your name will eventually die out and my memories will fade but my story will not. My shame will see light so that it can breathe, so that I can breathe.

I’ll bathe my story in so much sunlight that it’ll grow into something beautiful, the way ‘Lily of the Valley’ flowers grow despite losing their color for some time in the Winter. They come back even more vibrant and beautiful come Spring. They return happier and stronger.

Although, they look delicate, this tough but beautiful flower fights off predators with a poisonous sweet smell and her strong base can make it through even the harshest climates.

[bibhabmishra]

Steel Magnolias Women Are Interesting

Of all the many extraordinary qualities that eighties Hollywood movies pos- sess—the glorious hairstyles, their respect for power ballads, the endearing amount of confidence they had in the acting abilities of Steve Guttenberg— their depiction of women is not generally cited as being among their strengths. Eighties movies, the theory has long gone, were absolutely awful when it came to women, and no one argued this more vociferously at the time than feminist critics. “The backlash [against feminism] shaped much of Hollywood’s por- trayal of women in the eighties,” Susan Faludi writes in the 1990s Backlash, in her famous chapter looking specifically at mainstream eighties movies and how they expressed the social backlash against second-wave feminism. “Holly- wood restated and reinforced the backlash thesis: women were unhappy be- cause they were too free; their liberation had denied them marriage and moth- erhood . . . [whereas] in the 1970s, the film industry would have a brief infat- uation with the feminist cause.” Faludi is right about one thing: between the seventies and the eighties movies did change their attitude toward feminism.

In the seventies there was a slew of overtly feminist films about independent women, such as Private Benjamin, My Brilliant Career, Norma Rae, and Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. Marriage was shown to be a prison for women in films such as, most fa- mously, The Stepford Wives. Of course, not all movies were so charmed with feminism: in 1979’s bafflingly much-lauded Kramer vs. Kramer, feminism is portrayed as something kooky and selfish. It is explicitly blamed for the break- down of Ted (Dustin Hoffman) and Joanna’s (Meryl Streep) marriageI and, the movie insinuates, will probably result in the couple’s doe-eyed son spending the rest of his life hating women BECAUSE FEMINISM RUINS EVERYTHING. But it is fair to say that movies weren’t as explicitly interested in feminism in the eighties as they were in the seventies—with the noted and glorious excep- tion of 1980’s 9 to 5. In this still very funny film, Dolly Parton, Jane Fonda, and the glorious Lily Tomlin fight their sexist pig of a boss (Dabney Coleman) for equal pay, flexible working hours, and an in-office nursery. (Come back, Dolly, Jane, and Lily! We working women of the twenty-first century still need you!) The popular argument that the eighties were terrible for women in movies is primarily based on one ridiculously OTT and all-dominating piece of evidence: Fatal Attraction. Directed by British former adman Adrian Lyne, Fatal Attraction was so clearly designed to needle liberal women that it might well have been written by Fox News. The film’s message is that women who work and aren’t married by the decrepit age of thirty-six are pathetic, crazed with baby hunger, and deserve to be shot by good and humble housewives (I am not exagger- ating—this is literally the message of the movie). Along with S&M romcom 91/2 Weeks, which was also directed by Lyne, Fatal Attraction tends to skew all discussions about women in eighties movies, and that’s a shame. Sure, Lyne and his fantasies about how all women are masochistic bunny boilers are pretty attention-grabbing, but to let them grab all the attention is essentially doing Lyne’s work for him.II Because, contrary to what Lyne seemed to think, there is a lot more to eighties women than stalkers and masochists. There were so many interesting female film characters in the eighties, and so many great movies about women. Not all of them were explicitly feminist, but the fact that these films were made at all, with largely female casts, featuring fe- male stories, feels so feminist compared with today’s movies they make An- drea Dworkin look a bit watered down. So much so, in fact, that feminist critics—ones who grew up reading Faludi—now look back to the eighties as the last high point for women in movies: “The status of women in movies has gotten worse since the 1980s,” wrote journalist Amanda Hess, in a 2014 dis- cussion of Backlash and eighties films. “Just look at 1983, for example. I don’t know what was going on but you had Yentl, Terms of Endearment, and Silkwood—all big films for women. Then there were movies like Frances, Places in the Heart, Gorillas in the Mist. . . . But now, well, we know what’s happened now,” says film writer Melissa Silverstein. This is all true, and it is dismayingly impossible to imagine these films being made now. But let’s not underestimate perhaps an even more main- stream depiction of women in eighties movies, and one that is equally difficult to envisage existing today: the classic women’s movies. Most people know about the Bechdel Test, which was coined by the car- toonist Alison Bechdel to ascertain how well represented women are in a film by posing the following rubric:  1. It has to have at least two women in it . . . 2. Who talk to each other . . . 3. About something besides a man.  Well, I’d like to coin the Magnolia Test, named for a movie that is partic- ularly close to my heart, which judges whether or not a movie is a proper wom- en’s movie:  1. The cast is largely, maybe even solely female . . . 2. The female characters talk to each other about a million things other than men and genuinely like each other . . . 3. And the relationship between the women is far more important than any they have with a man . . . 4. Bonus points if any of the following are in the film: Shirley MacLaine, Dolly Parton, Bette Midler, Olympia Dukakis. Triple for Sally Field.  In an ideal world, these films would just be known as “movies,” as opposed to “women’s movies.” But as the ongoing success of Michael Bay proves, we do not live in an ideal world. And so, for too long, when it comes to leading roles in movies, women have been seen as the exception rather than the norm. Movies that focus on women’s stories are—now more than ever—dismissed as “niche,” even though women make up more than half the human race and (arguably more to the point) cinema audiences. So the gendering is, gratingly, necessary, just as, apparently, Michael Bay is to Hollywood’s current financial success. Some people snark about women’s movies and dismiss them as “domes- tic,” as though that were a negative thing. Home is a place most of us know and to write off “domestic” as an embarrassment is to dismiss the lives that millions and millions of women lead as worthless. I’ve also heard complaints that whereas men get action movies and westerns, women “only” get domestic dramas and big ol’ weepies. Well, if I want to see movies set in jungles or outer space, I will, and thanks to eighties movies I can see those movies starring kick-ass women in the form of, respectively, Romancing the Stone and Aliens. What I love about classic women’s movies is that they tell women that their daily lives are interesting. Westerns and action movies and other genres con- sidered to be the area of menfolk do not, because they do not depict lives led by most men, although heaven knows there are plenty of other movies out there that depict nothing but the daily lives of men. Women’s movies show women living normal daily lives—raising their children, dealing with breast cancer, laughing with their friends, contending with unfaithful husbands, fight- ing sexist bosses: in other words, things that women around the world deal with every day. These movies also respect the value of women’s emotional lives and show women talking to each other about things other than men. Men see this about themselves in pretty much any other movie. Women? Not so much. In wom- en’s movies, women exist in their own right, not as appendages, not as lonely spinsters, or idealized quarries, or someone’s wife or someone’s mother, but as funny, sad, angry, kind, supportive, independent human beings—and how many movies can claim that? So yeah, sure, men have their westerns and their stoicism and tumbleweed. But women get to bond over cheesecake with Dolly Parton. If men make sneering comments about women’s films, it’s because they’re jealous, and I really can’t blame them. 9 to 5 amply passes the Magnolia Test, as do those ne plus ultra eighties women’s movies, Terms of Endearment and Beaches, two of the most classic women’s weepies of all time. These movies starred women, were made for women, told distinctly women’s stories involving breast cancer, straying hus- bands, and motherhood, and the few men on-screen are repeatedly shown to be a disappointment, whereas the women are there for one another until death. Beaches comes with the obvious added bonus of being the last film to provide truly great hairbrush-microphone-in-front-of-the-mirror singing, thanks to Bette Midler’s irresistible soundtrack, a quality frustratingly lacking from movies today, and it serves as some distraction from Barbara Hershey’s lips seemingly inflating and deflating during the film. Terms of Endearment is probably not a film you’ve seen recently, but you should—it is as delightful as you’d expect a movie to be featuring Shirley MacLaine as a crotchety busybody and Jack Nicholson as her astronaut (!) lover. But the real heart of the film is the rela- tionship between MacLaine and her charmingly daffy daughter (Debra Winger), who, while married to one useless man (Jeff Daniels) and being wooed by an- other (John Lithgow), develops breast cancer. These two films are both sad but, like the best weepies, they are also very funny, and this brings me to a quick defense of women’s weepies. American feminist film critic Mollie Haskell, writing a decade before the eighties, was very dismissive of women’s movies and, in particular, women’s weepies in her classic text From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies:III “The woman’s film,” she writes, “fills a masturbatory need, it is soft-core emotional porn for the frustrated housewife. The weepies are found- ed on a mock-Aristotelian and politically conservative aesthetic whereby women spectators are moved, not by pity and fear but by self-pity and tears to accept, rather than reject, their lot. That there should be a need and an audi- ence for such an opiate suggests an unholy amount of real misery.”

[pllsetskyonice]

Europe’s Biggest Party

Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov

2,351 words

AO3 link

Victor loves Eurovision and no one can convince me otherwise. Dedicated to @clairles who I’ve spent most of the past week screaming about Eurovision with.

(I rewatched practically all of the final for this, send help)

13 May, 21:45

Victor renamed the chat Europe’s Biggest Party

Victor added Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri Plisestsky, Emil Nekola, Christophe Giacometti, Michele Crispino and Sara Crispino

Victor: IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN

Yuuri: ...what is it?

Victor: IT’S EUROVISION

Yuuri: oh

Yuuri: that’s the singing competition right?

Victor: Yes! I know we’re not all partying together but we can still scream over messages

Christophe: Russia aren't even competing this year though?

Victor: Yes I am aware, we're still going to watch it though because it's Eurovision and we must

Victor: And stfu Chris, Switzerland didn’t get past the semis with your entrant who looked like she’d stolen the dress from Beauty and the Beast

Emil: Czech Republic didn’t get to the finals either *sobs*

Michele: Italy did!

Victor: Italy pays to be there.

Yuuri: I’m confused?

Victor: Italy is part of the “Big 5”, which is the five counties (Germany, Spain, France, Italy and the UK) that make the biggest financial contributions to the European Broadcasting Union. They, along with the host nation, automatically get into the final

Yuuri: Oh I see!

Yuri added Otabek Altin

Victor: what’s he doing here Kazakhstan wasn’t invited

Yuri: Japan wasn’t either yet Katsudon is here

Yuri: Anyway he’s here watching it with me so I thought I might as well add him

Christophe: Oh? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Yuri: gtfo chris

//for Israel, add 01//

Victor: HERE WE GO HERE WE GO HERE WE GO

Yuri: jfc anyone would think you’re excited or some shit

Victor: me? Excited for Eurovision? What do you think this is?

Victor: OOOH ISRAEL IS UP FIRST NICE

Christophe: I voted for them in the semi finals I think?

Victor: a good choice

Otabek: I like the stage with how they’re making it look like a galaxy

Christophe: drinking game for tonight: take a shot every time you see a piece of white clothing on stage

Emil: don’t

Emil: if you saw the semis you’ll know that it looks like a bridal boutique at Eurovision this year and that will end with alcohol poisoning lmao

Christophe: YUURI YOU’RE IN RIGHT?

Yuuri: …no? I want to enjoy my first experience of Eurovision sober

Christophe: spoil sport

Christophe: being drunk just makes it more fun, just saying

Otabek: this song is very repetitive

Yuri: yeah well, welcome to Eurovision

//for Poland, add 02//

Emil: A wild violin appears

Victor: Did someone leave the door open? It looks there’s a draft on stage with her hair blowing like that

Christophe: *pours a shot*

Yuri: what’s going on with her dress I’m so confused

Victor: me too

//for Belarus, add 03//

Christophe: oh wow I’m don’t even know how many shots I’ve got to do for this one

Yuri: Many.

Yuuri: what language are they singing in?

Victor: Belarusian I think

Yuuri: well whatever it is the song sounds fun

Yuuri: I like it

Emil: not sure why they’re on a boat but I sure as hell want to dance on one now

Yuri: SAME

Yuri: WHERE DO I GET A BOAT

Christophe: aaaand they’re kissing

Christophe: what’s the betting the Yuuri and Victor are doing the same?

Otabek: High.

Victor: stfu all of you

Christophe: AHA! HE DIDN’T DENY IT!

Victor: chris I s2g

//for Austria, add 04//

Yuri: wow the dreamworks boy has grown up

Emil: think you need a few more shots chris

Christophe: I regret agreeing to this

Christophe: I feel like it was a mistake

Victor: you’re the one that started it in the first place!

Christophe: that’s a ~minor detail~ stfu

//for Armenia, add 05//

Yuuri: Is it just me or does Armenia remind you of welcome to the madness?

Yuri: Bitch stole my lighting cues I want them back

Victor: what on earth is she wearing

Victor: chain mail? Is this the 1500s?

Yuri: her jewellery is great though

Christophe: I’m having mixed feelings about the dancing tbh

Emil: same

Otabek: idk I think they work

//for The Netherlands, add 06//

Christophe: coming soon to some movie credits near you

Victor: their outfits are so sparkly

Victor: I LOVE THEM

Michele: song is shit though

Yuri: ^^

Sara: I like it!

Michele: I take it back it’s not that bad

//for Moldova, add 07//

Victor: EPIC SAX EPIC GUY EPIC SAX GUY EPIC SAX GUY

Emil: a hero has returned

Yuuri: ??

Victor: they first competed in 2010 and the saxophonist became a meme after

Victor: he’s a legend

Yuri: wtf is this dancing

Christophe: Bridal Wear 2017 by Moldova

Christophe: I suppose I’d better pour some more shots

Yuri: you’re damn right

//for Hungary, add 08//

Victor: WHERE DO I GET HIS JACKET I WANT IT SO BADLY

Christophe: I’m feeling personally attacked by all this white clothing tbh

Emil: ah

Emil: another wild violin player

Otabek: I’m actually really liking this song

Yuri: it’s certainly not the worst we’ve seen so far

//for Italy, add 09//

Yuri: @michele @sara pls explain wtf is going on with your country’s entry

Sara: I wish I knew

Otabek: someone should tell them that harambe is so last year

Michele: NEVER WE ARE STILL IN DENIAL

Yuuri: this is very colourful

Christophe: at least that means I don’t have do so many shots lmao

//for Denmark, add 10//

Yuri: Isn’t the singer Australian?

Victor: Yes but she moved to Denmark recently

Yuri: like a suspiciously recently kind of recently?

Victor: quite possibly

Christophe: HER DRESS IS RED THANK GOD

Yuuri: I think her shoes might be white though?

Christophe: STFU NO THEY’RE NOT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS

//for Portugal, add 11//

Victor: SALVADOR!! ❤ ❤ ❤

Yuri: aren’t they one of the favourites to win it?

Yuuri: you know when you described Eurovision to me this wasn’t quite what I was expecting

Victor: yes they are! And yeah I get that haha

Victor: it’s certainly something different to what we usually expect at Eurovision haha

Victor: I think I like it though

Yuri: I don’t

Yuri: MAKE IT STOP

Christophe: on the topic of making it stop

Christophe: oh look it’s the hosts

Otabek: lmao

//for Azerbaijan, add 12//

Yuri: okay what’s going on here

Yuri: I mean I like the song but WHAT’S WITH THE HORSE HEAD SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN

Michele: following italy’s example by including an animal in their choreograph

Sara: or the head of one I guess

Christophe: this is making my head hurt I’m so confused

Victor: same

//for Croatia, add 13//

Emil: ANOTHER VIOLIN

Emil: THIS TIME WITH ITS BIG BROTHER THE CELLO

Christophe: you vs the guy she told you not to worry about

Yuuri: what is going on here

Otabek: I’m really in two minds whether this works or not

Victor: I think it does

Victor: ESPECIALLY WITH THE STRINGS I LOVE IT

//for Australia, add 14//

Yuuri: I like Australia’s song! The guy is only seventeen he’s so talented!

Victor: YUURI WE’RE GETTING DIVORCED

Christophe: phichit better not see this haha

//for Greece, add 15//

Christophe: Someone tell Greece their paddling pool looks a bit shit compared the fountain Jedward brought in 2012

Yuri: You Tried™

Victor: If you're going to bring water on stage at least make an effort

Victor: Real talk though why did Ireland stop sending Jedward to represent them? They were basically made for Eurovision

Christophe: they really were

Christophe: I miss them

Christophe: this song is quite catchy though, I like it

//for Spain, add 16//

Otabek: this sounds kind of like Bruno Mars

Otabek: or some knock off version of one direction

Yuri: MAKE IT STOP

Victor: they can definitely stop with those shirts

Victor: hideous garments

Yuri: oh god that voice break

Yuri: I cringed so bad

Otabek: same

//for Norway, add 17//

Christophe: I think daft punk might be missing one of its masks?

Christophe: ooh it lights up

Christophe: pretty

Yuri: I’ve had enough of this song already someone make it stop pls

Otabek: idk I think it kind of works?

Michele: CHRIS THAT SHIRT IS WHITE I HOPE YOU’RE DOING ANOTHER SHOT

Christophe: …I came out to have a good time…

Victor: crying

Victor: OMG MANS

Yuuri: who?

Victor: he won in 2015 for Sweden and then co-hosted it last year

Victor: he’s a hero and everyone loves him

//for the United Kingdom, add 18//

Christophte: ah, the UK

Christophe: the one country you don’t need to feel threatened by in Eurovision

Sara: idk I think this is song is actually pretty solid? I like it

Victor: it’s another ballad we don’t need another one of those

Victor: also I don’t like the dress

Otabek: the stage looks cool though

Sara: and she can definitely sing

Sara: I think they’ll do better than last year

//for Cyprus, add 19//

Yuri: I want his jacket

Yuuri: I love what they’re doing with the lights and the stage

Otabek: same

//for Romania, add 20//

Victor: Now here is a true Eurovision song

Christophe: exactly, where else would you here yodelling and rapping in the same song?

Yuri: Yodeleeii, yodeleioo

Emil: I WANT THIS TO WIN

Otabek: this is crazy and I love it #Romania2018

Otabek: (Yuri is singing along I just thought you all should know)

Yuri: WHY WOULD YOU BETRAY ME IN THIS WAY

Yuri: I TRUSTED YOU

//for Germany, add 21//

Otabek: yeah hi germany David Guetta called he wants his song back

Yuri: lmao it actually sounds so much like titanium

Otabek: swear it’s like exactly the same chords

Victor: it wouldn’t be Eurovision without a song that sounds dubiously like an actual pop song

Christophe: haha true

Victor: EUROVISION CHOIR OF THE YEAR? WELL I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING IN JULY NOW

//for Ukraine, add 22//

Yuri: OH YES IT’S THE ONE OBLIGATORY ROCK SONG OF THE NIGHT

Yuri: I LOVE IT

Otabek: we’re barely thirty seconds in

Yuri: I don’t care

Yuri: I LOVE IT OKAY

Yuuri: I’d ask why there’s a massive head on the stage but I’ve learnt now that there’s probably little to no reasoning behind it

Victor: I mean you’re not wrong haha

//for Belgium, add 23//

Christophe: I think it reminds me of something but I don’t know what

Otabek: the beginning sounds a bit bastille-like? Maybe? Idk

Sara: I love the flowers on her dress

Emil: Solid song, I’m loving it #Brussels2018

Victor: no, #Lisbon2018

Yuri: it’s quite obviously going to be Romania stfu

Yuri: “authentic tv host smile”? lol no that has got to be two of the creepiest smiles I’ve ever seen

Victor: lmao true

//for Sweden, add 24//

Christophe: *starts backstage bc it’s the only thing that’s going to make this song stand out*

Victor: I CHOKED

Yuuri: ...are those treadmills?

Victor: Yes, yuuri, they are.

//for Bulgaria, add 25//

Victor: he was born in THIS CENTURY

Victor: I feel so old

Yuuri: what’s with all the talented 17 year olds tonight

Sara: MY SMOL SON

Otabek: this better win

Otabek: one of the best songs of the night

Emil: you still doing shots chris? His shirt is white

Christophe: WHO DRESSED THIS KID I’M HAVING WORDS WITH THEM I THINK I’M DYING OVER HERE

//for France, add 26//

Victor: we’re on the last song what the hell where’s the last two hours gone

Yuuri: I don’t know but it’s been fun

Sara: omg her dress

Sara: I want

Christophe: France: puts the Eiffel tower in the background whilst singing in French in case you’re in any doubt about what country this song is from

Otabek: why couldn’t Bulgaria end the show their song was so much better than this

Yuri: true though

//lines are now open//

Victor: OMG OMG VERKA VERKA

Yuuri: another Eurovision hero?

Victor: how did you know

Yuuri: just a feeling

Victor: those of your who are able to, I hope you’re voting

Sara: of course!

Yuri: um.

Yuri: Ukraine what’s this interval act I’m so confused

Otabek: I like it

Otabek: It’s different

Christophe: OH MY GOD DID WE ALL SEE THE BUTT

Victor: YES

Victor: YES WE DID

//lines are now closed//

Emil: well, I’m sensing a trend here

Emil: “12 POINTS TO PORTUGAL” “12 POINTS TO PORTUGAL”

Victor: that’s not a bad thing! They’ve never won it

Otabek: Bulgaria is doing well too

Yuri: they’re still miles behind Portugal though

Victor: OMG A DOGGO

Yuuri: it’s not as cute as makkachin though

Victor: ♥‿♥ ♥‿♥

Victor: well of course Cyprus were going to give their 12 points to Greece that wasn’t a surprise

Yuri: oh my god this is so tense

Yuri: even though unless something shocking happens in the popular vote it looks like Portugal is going to win

Victor: the popular vote will be even tenser

Emil: well here we go

Christophe: Portugal has won the jury vote but idk Bulgaria might just pull it out the bag in the popular vote

Yuuri: this is worse than waiting for your score after skating

Christophe: lmao true

Victor: okay down to final four

Otabek: COME ON BULGARIA

Otabek: …no

Otabek: apparently not

Victor: YESSSS!!! SALVADOR!!!!

Christophe: I demand a recount

Emil: I mean, I’m not that salty about him winning? 53 years in the contest and this is the first time they’ve won it, there’s hope for us all

Victor: true

Victor: I like that he won HOWEVER what’s this speech did he just drag the rest of the competition I think he’s in the wrong place for a speech like that

Victor: this is Eurovision not the last night of the proms

Sara: he’s brought his sister onto the stage, I cry

Christophe: okay this is sweet

Victor: well, there we go, over for another year

Victor: did everyone enjoy it? Especially those of you who were watching it for the first time?

Otabek: I loved it

Yuuri: me too! We should throw a Eurovision party next year and invite everyone! Is that a thing?

Victor: YES

Victor: YES THAT’S A THING

Victor: I’M GOING TO START PLANNING NOW

Christophe: It’s going in my diary now I do hope you realise this

Victor: of course I do! SEE YOU ALL NEXT YEAR! #LISBON2018

[usstatesofsong]

Countdown to #Eurovision - Yearly Reviews - 1987

We’re a little under two months away from the next edition of the Eurovision Song Contest, and while we’re counting down the days toward ESC 2017, we’re going to revisit Eurovision song contests from the past and rank our favorites in each contest. (At least, through 1989... all the songs are out now!)

-------

Breaking the barrier, for a moment, between the Eurovision bubble and non-virtual reality. During the 1980s, and more recently, Belgium has been one of my favorite Eurovision countries, mostly because they don’t follow the middle path of typical pop music entries. They follow trends, or they go a bit avant-garde; they send flops, or they send gold. Their sole win in ESC history came in 1986, and thus, the European world tuned into Brussels in 1987 to watch the second-most 80’s-tastic contest the decade had to offer. The challenge was knowing who would “host” since Belgium alternates between the Walloon (French) and Flemish broadcasters for song entries. RTBF (the broadcaster of the winning artist, Sandra Kim), hosted the grand event, while BRT got to choose the singer.

First off, take a look at that logo. After viewing it a few times I finally realized it spells “87.” I’d love to meet the person who designed that logo… they chose the most 80’s-tastic colors. Even the hostess was in special 80’s form, and Brussels has my douze points for the most 80’s-tastic stage of the decade. It just kind of disappears into a dark abyss, which makes for some interesting antics during the performances. Speaking of the hostess, she was a statuesque woman by name of Viktor Lazlo. Sounds like a man’s name? That’s because her real name is Sonia. She’s my second-most favorite host of the decade, for many reasons! But I digress… the contest itself is memorable for bringing forth the real look of the decade, and not shying away from some 80’s-tastic tunes, as well. Some of my favorite entries of all time come from this contest - for better, or for worse. And all 22 (usual) countries participated! No excuses, no holiday boycotting, no mistakenly reentered songs - we have a full contest to swim through.

Another Eurovision blogger that I admire really detests the ‘87 contest, for reasons that I don’t completely agree with, but am willing to accept. There are some doozies, after all, that will make you question your true sexuality. Also, “Deeeeeee melodie!”

Alright, I’ve buffered this blog with all that I can muster. Let’s get to it, shall we?

1. NORWAY - Kate Gulbrandsen - Mitt liv (9th, 65 pts)

Well, she’s definitely on a mission! And not with just the hair… or the clothes… or the boots. You know what I’d really like to see? Someone taking on that combination in 2017. They’d earn a gold medal for braveness, because I think that style was dead by 1988. The song has a power to it, a developing force, trudging through tough times and overcoming the challenges of the world. It wouldn’t be out of place as the theme song of a movie. Although the song is titled “my life,” I imagine the way she describes her life in Norwegian is supposed to be relative. There’s just a bit of an empty feeling to this song, and the stage. All in all, not a bad start to the contest.

2. ISRAEL - Datner & Kushnir - Shir Habatlanim (8th, 73 pts.)

Lulz. So many lulz. What else do I need to say here? Lulz!!!! Israel, you loving bunch. Europe loves you right back. The fame of this song, and the legacy it holds because the Israeli Prime Minister of Culture or something like that wanted to resign if this song was sent… really?? Get the stick out of your butt. If anything, people love Israel more for songs like this. So, if you compare the ESC version of the song to the national final, this really comes alive and can be… somewhat understood as a legitimate entry. The orchestration sounds great in that big stage, and the little dances are so damn entertaining. There’s a 1950s vibe to the composition, but the singing is so unlike anything. It’s pure theatrics. Props to RTBF for cutting to the next shot as Avi’s in mid-air jump! WE NEVER KNOW IF HE COMES BACK DOWN!!! :D :D Such happy! Also, featuring the first song/performance to feature a handstand. And sunglasses (maybe). And hand-shimmies. And an abandoning of the microphone only to turn right back around on the last bar and jump and shout “Hah!” The Dutch broadcaster described it as “Blue Brothers”... and that sounds about right.

3. AUSTRIA - Gary Lux - Nur noch Gefühl (20th, 8 pts.)

I don’t remember this song making much of an impression on me during my first listen of the program. Years later, there’s more of an understanding of the sentiment and the feeling associated with the composition. Gary was a seasoned veteran of Eurovision by this point, so the performance was flawless… until the almost-end, when his voice cracked. Sigh… I wonder if that moment haunted him for many years after, because we wouldn’t see him again for nearly five years. Or maybe someone finally told him he needed to give it up, as it were. Who knows. All I know is that the song itself is lovely. It fits the mold of the decade of music I love nicely (as does his jacket - I hope it stayed there.) And while it probably was never going to win the contest, I have to wonder if it could have got more points.

4. ICELAND - Halla Margret - Hægt og hljótt (16th, 28 pts.)

It’s the end of a long night in downtown and it’s time to head on home… the bar is closing, the last drink has been drunk, and once again you’re alone. Nobody except the piano man, slowly and lightly playing away. That’s what this song makes me think about, and songs that make me think rank highly in my final points chart. This is one of my annual favorites, as it again could not have happened in any other decade than the 80’s, and because Halla is one hella good lookin’ nordic woman. Actually, it’s more that “anus in the, anus in the air” lyric that the English language cannot put to death. This is such an odd composition, as it never was going to go places with the juries. But it’s sweetness, kindness, lightness and brightness shine through. The most you could say about it is “boring,” but eff you. :P

5. BELGIUM - Liliane Saint-Pierre - Soldiers of Love (11th, 56 pts)

Wait a second, did you see the way Liliane looked in that postcard?? And also, how about the host country’s conductor not being Jo Carlier, but rather the other broadcaster’s conductor… conducting for the other broadcaster’s host entry... Okay, whatever. I’m fully aware of the confusion Belgium causes (I made a map about it in college). We desperately needed some kind of upbeat pop or rock number in this contest, and the host country delivered nicely. There’s a bit of an older vibe that I get from Liliane, but her dress is beyond epic, and so are the militaristic dance moves. I have to wonder if those gun-shaped guitars would be allowed on an airplane flight in today’s world. Definitely in the upper half of entries from 1987.

6. SWEDEN - Lotta Engberg - Boogaloo (12th, 50 pts.)

And now for something completely different! I have to give credit to Sweden for ditching the schlager route, as was common practice for the Scandinavian countries, and risking … tropical calypso? The bright colors of the outfits and the happy, upbeat, sunshiney atmosphere the song creates really helps you forget, if just momentarily, how dark and expansive that stage is. I’m not sure this is something I would want to listen to outside of the contest itself, but I appreciate the song for what it is, and Sweden has certainly sent worse. At the end, the “guitarist” throws his guitar in the air, and I’d have to wonder what kind of world we would be living in now if he failed to catch it and the guitar broke.

7. ITALY - Raf & Umberto Tozzi - Genti di mare (3rd, 103 pts.)

Welcome back (again), Italy, the perennial skippers of Eurovision, as it suits them. They would remain for quite a few years, possibly because this was one of their more successful streaks in the contest itself. To celebrate their return, the Italians sent arguably their two biggest male stars, which would never happen these days! This one had a big impact on me the first time I listened to the contest, having ranked it at my top until I had heard “Mr. Eurovision” sing later on - we will get to that. There’s a uniqueness to this composition, the beginning lyrics almost sounding like waves washing on the shores, for the “genti di mare,” and as it builds into a proper song (I wouldn’t quite call it a ballad), the anthemic quality of it all is awesome. Umberto is definitively one of the strongest singers of the contest, and carries this song into ‘contender’ territory for the title.

8. PORTUGAL - Nevada - Neste barco à vela (18th, 15 pts.)

I really like the beginning of this one, with the way the violins and guitars (?) play, but I’m sorry, it’s ruined the moment he starts singing. It’s just… I’ve never felt as though a baritone voice can carry a song to victory in Eurovision. Also, nice librarians that you hired as backup singers there. I suppose this is okay, but I’ve been spoilt with such thematic songs up to this point that fit the mold of the decade, and this song does not. But hey, they beat Spain in ‘87! Small victories.

9. SPAIN - Patricia Kraus - No estás solo (19th, 10 pts)

Oh. Goodness. Certainly, she’s had a bit of coffee before walking out to that stage! One wonders what it’s like to be squeezed to death at the waist while literally shouting some of the lyrics. Or that she smeared some lipstick on her cheeks and decided to leave it there. Terry Wogan calls her “challenging,” and that’s an adequate summation. Admittedly, this is another one where I’d say it starts out good, but Patricia ruins it with the way she sings. I get the feeling like this is supposed to be a song of declaration, a pronouncement, and she tries to oversell it, thus ruining herself in the process. Also, “Oh yay!” appears about twenty times too many during the song. Finally, she destroys any opportunity of redemption on that last note. It’s too bad; I think this really could have been a good song!

10. TURKEY - Seyyal Taner & Lokomotif - Şarkım Sevgi Üstüne (22nd, 0 pts.)

This one, on the other hand, makes Spain look like a masterpiece. I could go on for hours about this. When I watched a recap of worst performances during the most recent Norwegian hosting of ESC, this was the first highlight, as it were, and I became infatuated with the songs featured in that recap. It’s baaaaad, folks. But it ventures into the “so bad it’s good” territory, thankfully. What particularly is bad is hard to say, since everything about it is so over-the-top - from the constant movement, to the white clothes, to the male singer’s solo fail, to the “Deeeeeeeeee melodi” theme, or perhaps even those clunky cowbell keyboard sounds. This has not aged well, and I think this song’s existence was 20 years too early. The fandom has certainly come around to this one, but this must have been looked down on back in the day, since it received nul points. Turkey always gets treated like poop, but thankfully everyone enjoys their poop these days. Mercy me.

11. GREECE - Bang - Stop (10th, 64 pts)

And now, the Greek George Michael. They certainly knew what they were doing, those Greeks… anyways, this has an old-fashioned charm to it that most sounds like Wham!’s single, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” but perhaps without the soaring vocals. However, Thanos’ vocals didn’t really need to be soaring for this number, and I like the bopping energy of this one. Greece wasn’t usually known for sending dance numbers, so this was a breath of fresh air. What I really want to know, though - which of those backup singers is Mariana! I can’t tell!

12. NETHERLANDS - Marcha - Rechtop in de wind (t-5th, 83 pts)

It kinda sounds like two songs combined into one! Marcha couldn’t decide whether she wanted to sing a ballad or a pop hit at Eurovision, so she took both. It’s not all that bad; she looks knock-dead gorgeous (I mean, not just by 80’s standards), and this has a very contemporary feel to it. The only problem, I would say, is that I have very little else to say about it. For being such a contemporary song with a strong beat and jamming melody, there’s nothing to latch onto. She comes on the stage and she does her thing; she owns it. The juries love that stuff, yo, thus why the Dutch scored a rare Top 5 with it.

13. LUXEMBOURG - Plastic Bertrand - Amour, amour (21st, 4 pts)

It’s all good and well in these types of reviews until you’re introduced to something from the left-most edge of the left field. What do you think audiences back then thought about this song? Because I can tell you plenty about what people think about it thirty years later. M. Bertrand is an… unique, engaging fellow. And if there was any one person who worked the stage that night in Brussels, it was him. He’s wearing a godddamn pink suitjacket, for heaven’s sakes! But guys, sexuality aside, unless you absolutely love new wave music, you’re probably not going to like this one. My fondness of this song stems from the style of music combined with the over-the-top appeal, but even then, I can’t award it too highly. And they destroyed some of the original quality when it transferred over to the orchestra. All that aside, though, this is a Eurovision classic; a must-watch.

14. UNITED KINGDOM - Rikki - Only the Light (13th, 47 pts.)

This was the poop-bird of Britain’s hot streak; perhaps a strong representation that you can’t always win just because you sing in English. And it started from (almost) the first note, with Rikki’s vocals as he shouts “Woahhhh!!!” above everything else going on. I’d almost think that the composition itself backfired upon the band, because there’s so much energy in the performance and in the dance moves, and when Rikki isn’t trying to smooth-move sooth you there’s an element of strength to the song.

15. FRANCE - Christine Minier - Les mots d'amour n'ont pas de dimanche (14th, 44 pts.)

The words of love are not some Sunday? Well, okay. Sure. Okay, past that point. This just comes off as a really average-sounding pageant song. Like the kind of thing you’d sing in Miss Universe. I give credit to actually using the orchestra for the song, which most of the other acts didn’t do that night. But that’s as far as I can go with this - she’s not even that vocally strong of a singer. Next.

16. GERMANY - Wind - Lass die Sonne in dein Herz (2nd, 141 pts.)

A couple things here - how sad for this group to have come 2nd place twice!?! Just so that Johnny Logan could win twice… Also, freakin’ half of Milli Vanilli! Why is he there?? Like, this must be pre-MV fame, and he was a “fake” singer, so … what is he doing there? Was he just like, the poster-boy for German pop music? What would have Wind done if they had won? Would we still have had Milli Vanilli, or would he have become an honorary member of Wind and gone on to great Eurovision success? Was it about the image? A Caribbean look, which admittedly is what this song tries to provide? I do have to say I like this more than their 1985 attempt, because the vocals are spot-on! But it also has a somewhat empty feeling to it, just like the UK did. I can award some points to Germany for this breath of fresh air, but it’s not the true winner of the evening.

17. CYPRUS - Alexia - Aspro mavro (7th, 80 pts)

Say it isn’t so! Cyprus went the schlager route in 1987, as if it wasn’t bad enough that some Scandinavian countries couldn’t get their heads out of the sand to send something outside the genre around this time. Appropriately she’s wearing black and white, and she’s go the sweet little side-step dances to go with it. Delaying for time and for critique, because this is not really my cup of tea and I find Alexia’s voice a bit grating at times; a bit nasal. Like, the song does get stuck in my head ever so slightly, but my reimagining of her voice in my head is less than complimentary. We’ll see where this lands at the end.

18. FINLAND - Vicky Rosti & Boulevard - Sata salamaa (15th, 32 pts.)

I think the only real crime to this is that it finished with less points than France. But if you’re going to do anything with schlager, this is one route you can go where you don’t immediately lose all credibility with me. It also helps if you’re a redhead (I have a thing for redheads…) Vicky combines the glam rock from that decade with a pop-infused schlager tune, and while it’s not my favorite thing of the night, I don’t forget the song so quickly, either. And that’s a good thing for this contest, all things considered! I also like the way she rolls her ‘r’s. I wish I could do that...

19. DENMARK - Anne-Cathrine Herdorf & Bandjo - En lille melodi (t-5th, 83 pts.)

This is basically the ‘87 version of Spain ‘84, or Germany-87-lite. It’s called “A little melody” because there’s only a little bit of melody to this, otherwise it again sounds so empty and lost during the chorus parts. It picks up a little bit on the start of the second chorus, but that’s literally just me trying to latch onto something. But, of course, this is something that the juries would fall for back in those days. Sigh...

20. IRELAND - Johnny Logan - Hold Me Now (1st, 172 pts)

Really the only deserved winner of the evening. Everything just comes together really well, from the orchestrated composition (I swear Ireland is the only nation that uses the french horn appropriately), to the lyrics, to the vocals, and to the contemporary feeling of the single. This comes alive so much more than the demo version, which tries too desperately to fit in the era of 80’s ballads. And Johnny always knows how to finish on a fantastic note. I can’t really criticize this if I tried. So, three cheers for the orange, green, and white. With St. Patrick’s Day upcoming, I award you with the only true score deserved for this piece of Eurovision history - nobody else has ever won twice.

21. YUGOSLAVIA - Novi Fosili - Ja sam za ples (4th, 92 pts)

It’s weird how most of the schlager of ‘87 got all sandwiched towards the end of the presentation! But this is another one I can tolerate, as it is more of a throwback to the 50’s and 60’s era of pop dance, rather than just big-band poppity trash waste. And the lead singer really sells it, too, with her constant moving and … umm, hiccups? I don’t know how else to describe those sounds. This group is so Slavic, and yet, it all comes together. It’s a precursor to 1989, that’s for sure, and the country earned another Top 5 finish for the boys and girls back home.

22. SWITZERLAND - Carol Rich - Moitié, moitié (17th, 26 pts)

Gosh, she’s a little fireball of energy, isn’t she? Apparently the Swiss didn’t even need a conductor, as hostess Lazlo awkwardly cuts to Rich running from off-stage right to demand a tap of the foot or two. I’d love to know what the thought-process was for the outfitting of her (American stars on top, Australian stars on bottom?) and the group, with headbands and guitar accessories, who are alarmingly reminding me of Sweden’s profession to mediocrity from the year before. In all honesty this is too streamline for my tastes, and apparently I wasn’t alone in that deduction as the juries didn’t buy into it either.

As I said previously, Logan won for the second time. And it was against a field of random hullabaloo, just like in 1980. I’m reminded how this song elevates in comparison to “What’s Another Year,” and in comparison to everything else sent that year. Yeah, I suppose this wasn’t the grandest of editions musically, but there’s still a lot here that I adore, and I think when there’s a grander variety of music, the joyful feelings illuminate the memory and make the contest so much more interesting. I award the actual winner the 12 points, and I drop a big fat zero on the senorita who got lost in her own world. Greece was the only country to award her points, after all - otherwise she would have finished with nul points, just like the musical travesty that was Turkey! Anywho, there was a serious upgrade in sophistication, technology, and harmony in 1987; what would we get out of the Irish in ‘88?

My votes:

12 – Ireland 10 – Iceland 8 – Italy 7 – Austria 6 – Israel 5 – Yugoslavia (Croatia) 4 – Germany 3 – Belgium 2 – Finland 1 – Luxembourg

The “Big Fat 0” award: Spain Honorable Mention: Sweden, Greece Worst Dressed: Switzerland

And here is the overall count of points since beginning these reviews with the ‘80 contest. It’s a best-of-best race, as Germany is now within one point. Israel and Ireland gain some ground, and it will be pretty interesting who we finish out with on top by the end of the decade. How would your rankings look?

1st - 45 – Belgium (1986) 2nd - 44 – Germany (1982, 1983) 3rd - 36 – Israel 4th - 35 – Ireland (1980, 1987) 5th - 31 – Austria 27 – Turkey 24 – Norway (1985) 21 – Portugal 20 – Italy (1984) 20 – Luxembourg 20 – Sweden 18 – Finland 18 – Greece (1981) 17 – France 16 – Spain 14 – United Kingdom 12 – Netherlands  11 – Denmark 11 - Iceland 9 – Croatia 9 – Cyprus 6 – Switzerland

-50SS

[newyorktheater]

“The Wrong Man,”  a sung-through musical starring the spectacular Joshua Henry,  may remind people of “Hamilton” in its catchy rap-inflected eclectic score and jerky hip hop choreography, but it is nearly the anti-“Hamilton” in its lack of real-world resonance.

Now, I don’t need a show to be socially conscious or rooted in history in order to enjoy it. But if you’re going to enlist a black actor to portray a man framed for murder, it seems like a missed opportunity to create a story that has no more relevance than a folk tale.

Duran (Henry) impregnates Mariana (Ciara Renée), after he meets her at a bar in Reno, Nevada for a one-night stand. Her jealous ex-husband, called only Man in Black (Ryan Vasquez),kills her and frames Duran for the murder. Duran is tried, convicted, and sentenced to death.

“The Wrong Man” is written by Ross Golan, a pop songwriter responsible for a slew of number 1 hits (for Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, Lady Antebellum, Maroon 5, Pink,  et al.) The musical began as a single song that Dolan has said he wrote in 2004 after he learned that Illinois Gov. George Ryan declared a moratorium on executions in the state (which was subsequently made permanent by Gov. Pat Quinn) and Golan imagined “a guy who is in prison for something he didn’t do.”  The one song grew to many, which Golan performed in L.A. in 2014 on a guitar, accompanied by a dancer and video projections.He turned that into an animated film, which was presented at the Tribeca Film Festival earlier this year, and then a concept album released a few months later.

Many talented people have participated in the staging of the 24 songs that make up “That Wrong Man” at MCC Theater, including director Thomas Kail, and musical supervisor and orchestra Alex Lacamoire, who both won Tony Awards for “Hamilton.” (Three of the nine cast members, including Henry, are also alumni of “Hamilton.”) It’s choreographed  by Travis Wall of “So You Think You Can Dance.”

 Despite all the talent, “The Wrong Man” never really gels as a work of theater for me. It can feel like a 90-minute live music video – catchy, lively, superficial.

It reminds me in several ways of Paul Simon’s 1998 musical “The Capeman,”  about a Puerto Rican gang member who commits murder. It, too, was a concept album before it was a staged musical, it too was put together by some prestige talents. The music was catchy.  But the individual songs told the story rather than dramatized it. What remains most memorable to me about that musical is how unmemorable the supposedly central act was, the stabbing murder; it nearly didn’t register at all.

As  with “The Capeman,” so with “The Wrong Man”: In place of involving drama or insight, there is…rhythm and melody.

This parallel struck me during the “scene” in “The Wrong Man” when the Man in Black frames Duran – in the song called “Stays Here”:

“He dropped the pistol in my lap,” Duran rap-sings, while the Man in Black drops the pistol in his lap, “And then he ran into the street and yelled.”

Then the Man in Black raps: “Police, that man just killed someone and now he’s after me.”

Duran continues: “I threw the gun like it was burning through my flesh and bone/I took off and I ran/And that’s the way the story goes.”

The song continues with Duran telling us that he rushed to Mariana’s home to find her stabbed to death; he called the paramedics; and then he ran away.

Ironically, the refrain of the song is: “They say all kinds of clichés here like, ‘what happens here stays here’”

The plot is so vague and far-fetched that it feels pointless to view it logically – to wonder, for example, why his fingerprints on a gun would implicate Duran in a stabbing death.

It is worth noting that “The Capeman” was based on the true story of Salvador Agron, and attempted an exploration of the social forces that shaped him.  Goran had an almost endless number of recent true-life stories of wrongful imprisonment that could have inspired him, but he instead seems to take his guidance from country ballads and B movies. It is fitting that the music includes a synthetic whistling that sounds borrowed from the score of a spaghetti Western. There is even a direct allusion to Johnny Cash’s Folson Prison Blues: “It wasn’t me who shot a man in Reno/Just to watch him die.”

Golan makes a few weak stabs at social significance, such as a lyric in the song “Line Up” that suggests corruption —  “the court appointed lawyer walked in, her arm around the chief  — and the song “Free Duran” in which protesters lead a chant against the injustice of Duran’s conviction. But these don’t have much effect in a show that has such a melodramatic villain in the Man in Black (the name another allusion to Johnny Cash.) The character acknowledges his own evil repeatedly, especially in the song “When Evil Men Go On The Run”:

Y’all ready know I’ve been in prison for passing fraudulent checks while abating arrest for soliciting a minor for sex 

I’m a cold, cold man with little to no pity I killed my pregnant wife and left for Mexico City

�� That there are any genuinely moving moments at all in “The Wrong Man” feels like  a testament to Joshua Henry’s tremendous power as a performer.  “The Wrong Man” is as close to a one-man show as is possible with a nine-member cast (Mariana and the Man in Black are the only other specific characters), and Henry makes the most of it. He turns what in other hands might have seemed simply an unending stream of self-pity – “ God, tell me why me? /Why oh why oh why oh why me?” – into cries from the heart. Henry’s role is so demanding physically – and I suspect emotionally — that Ryan Vasquez, normally portraying the Man in Black,  is performing as Duran on Sunday matinees and occasionally one other day during the week.

 My building up Joshua Henry should not be read as a put-down of the rest of the cast, all of whom are amazing dancers and great back-up singers.  “The Wrong Man”  is such an attractively staged entertainment  that some theatergoers might not mind that it’s a concert with nothing to say.

Click on any photographs by Matthew Murphy to see it enlarged.

The Wrong Man

MCC Theater

Book, music and lyrics by Ross Golan

Directed by Thomas Kail, music supervision, vocal arrangements and orchestrations by Alex Lacamoire, choreography by Travis Wall, scenic design by Rachel Hauck, costume design by Jennifer Moeller and Kristin Isola, lighting design by Betsy Adams, and sound design by Nevin Steinberg, hair and make-up design by Tommy Kurzman, music direction by Taylor Peckham,

Cast: Joshua Henry, Ciara Renée, Ryan Vasquez, Anoop Desai, Tilly Evans-Krueger, Malik Kitchen, Libby Lloyd, Amber Pickens, Kyle Robinson, Debbie Christine Tjong, and Julius Williams.

Running time: 90 minutes with no intermission

Tickets: $56 – $132

The Wrong Man is on stage through November 17, 2019

The Wrong Man Review: Hamilton-Like in Form, The Anti-Hamilton in Content “The Wrong Man,”  a sung-through musical starring the spectacular Joshua Henry,  may remind people of “Hamilton” in its catchy rap-inflected eclectic score and jerky hip hop choreography, but it is nearly the anti-“Hamilton” in its lack of real-world resonance.

[mrmichaelchadler]

Nick Allen's Top Ten Films of 2018

Below is a small glimpse at my film year, a collection of the movies I was fixated on during and after festivals, recommended to you if you asked me what was good, or was simply blown away by. And in the case of my number one film, it was lodged so deep into my brain that its second-to-last shot made for a solid homemade Halloween costume. Of course, this list is subject to change at any minute, with special shout-outs to “Roma,” “Minding the Gap,” “Eighth Grade,” “Widows,” “Vice,” “Free Solo,” “If Beale Street Could Talk,” “Blaze,” and the laugh-out-loud quality of “Mile 22.” 

10. “Bird Box” 

In 2010, Susanne Bier made one of the most unforgettable stories about the immediacy of day-to-day violence with “A Better World,” its plot hinging on acts of humanism across continents. She brings that focus on how we treat each other to the ruthlessly thrilling “Bird Box,” which tops off a year of nervous cinema, but is approximately 300% more stressful than the silent but deadly “A Quiet Place” (nor can “Bird Box” have its logic poked through by the prospects of farts). The hook here is an apocalyptic disadvantage—one’s eyes must always be covered from an outside force that invades consciousness, making them want to hurt others or themselves.

Adapted by Eric Heisserer from the novel by Josh Malerman, “Bird Box” takes the set-up of a survival story to its most tense limits, where characters are walking, driving, or riding down a river through unknown environments, without being able to see where they are going. In a year in which watching white supremacy terrorize families in “The First Purge” seemed redundant, “Bird Box” is one of the most terrifying depictions of fanaticism; those who do decide to see sometimes have a frightening, monstrous power, and try to force others to look. It's a scary reflection of our modern cults built on hatred, anonymous conspiracy theories, or willful misinterpretations of the Bible. 

The whole of "Bird Box" hinges on dumb luck, but each major set piece has an inescapable claustrophobia, in which the ability to see what the blindfolded characters can't, and imagining what could befall them, makes it that much more terrifying. At the center of it all is a top-level performance from Sandra Bullock, portraying a mother in the most desperate mode of survival. She makes a viewer even more wistful that somehow she and her two blindfolded kids can survive the film’s impossible world.

9. “Searching” 

Aneesh Chaganty’s “Searching” is a thrilling correction to a few bugs in mainstream filmmaking: it’s an unabashed crowd-pleaser that doesn’t talk down to its audience, a tech-savvy movie that doesn’t lament the growing presence of smart phones and social media so much as whole-heartedly embrace them, and a screen-based thriller that isn’t just the cinematic equivalent of watching a desktop. That it’s also a thriller that gives John Cho the leading role he’s long deserved is just one of its many elements to adore.

Scripted by Chaganty and Sev Ohanian, this story about a father (John Cho) searching for his missing daughter Margot (Michelle La) is one of the year’s most exciting examples of creativity, with elements of filmmaking one can easily take for granted—it’s one of the year’s best edited films for how it creates an emotional roller coaster using only the content on its characters’ screens, orchestrating a narrative out of an insane amount of on-screen detail that fully immerses us in everyone's lives. "Searching" plays wonderfully on repeat viewings, and the opening scene has deservedly won comparisons to the first ten minutes of “Up”—“Searching” is the debut of major storytelling talent, with a thrilling new perspective on the technology we use every day.

8. “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” 

“John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” is a sports documentary that begins with a Jean-Luc Godard quote, and doesn’t show its title subject until five minutes in. Yes, this movie is a dream for anyone who has felt film semiotics and sports analysis aren’t too different of beasts, especially when one talks about the strengths and weaknesses of a performance. Needless to say, “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” transported me back to my brain-fueling Film Studies classes, all focused around a pivotal match for the hot-head tennis player in 1984. This doc does not just thrill with how it toys with form, but also in how it proclaims the expansive potential of critical thinking. I dare anyone who is interested in the very concept of criticism, whether for athletes or filmmakers, to try to turn it off after watching it for those five minutes.

7. “Makala” 

“Makala” popped into my life as a review assignment back in August, and by the end of the year it’s still the most exemplary idea of the power in minimalist storytelling. One of the most tense scenes this year is of Makala trying to push a huge bundle of coal, strapped to his bike, up a small hill, as captured with simplicity by director and cinematographer Emmanuel Gras. As it documents one man’s process in creating coal, carting it many miles and then trying to sell it, “Makala” speaks to the eternal values of filmmaking, and recognizes that walking many miles in someone else’s shoes is an instrumental part of it. 

6. “Cold War”

Anyone who was a bit miffed by the ending of Damien Chazelle’s musical “La La Land”—not that it ended on a surprising note, but that it felt like an incomplete thought—will find refreshing heart and soul in Pawel Pawlikowski’s musician story, “Cold War.” Told over various years and across countries, the story of two Polish musicians and their romance in spite of years and geographical distance beautifully condenses time but doesn’t cut short its emotion. “Cold War” precisely captures the different chapters of a relationship, while having a black-and-white beauty that makes the film like the year’s best love ballad.

5. “Mandy” 

Like a holy mix of “You Were Never Really Here” and “If Beale Street Could Talk,” as blended with a chainsaw fight and served on an actual dish of revenge, “Mandy” is one of the year’s most visceral proclamations of love and loss. Be not fooled by the howls from its growing cult audience, the best aspects of “Mandy” (directed by Panos Cosmatos and co-written with Aaron Stewart-Ahn) are not its albeit glorious action scenes but its sensitivity: this is the story of a man (Nicolas Cage), a woman named Mandy (Andrea Riseborough, her close-up laughing at macho BS the true face of this film) and the depths of his battling the demons of grief after his loved one is taken away. The late Johann Johannsson’s heavenly score uses synthesizers and heavy metal guitars to grip you from its opening text, and the film’s heavy use of color filters creates a dreamy atmosphere, which only gets kookier as “Mandy” becomes a straight-up hero odyssey with Cage battling phantasmagorical Jesus freaks. But the true beauty of “Mandy” is its intimacy; it’s as beautiful as looking into the eyes of your loved one as you both lie in bed, no one else existing in the world.

“Mandy” also features an unforgettable Nicolas Cage scene, in which he downs a whole bottle of vodka in a bathroom while standing in his underpants. He’s crying, howling, screaming. It epitomizes the appeal of one our greatest screen artists—that Cage is unafraid to tap into the absurd emotions we sometimes wish we could—and it pushes the surrealism of the scene to sincere and complete heartbreak. I’m placing “Mandy” in my proverbial “In Case of Loss, Break Glass” collection, right next to a copy of Philip Roth’s Everyman.

4. “Leave No Trace” 

I really love what my colleagues have written about Debra Granik’s story of a PTSD-afflicted father living off the grid with his young daughter, but one of my favorite qualities of this nearly pitch-perfect story is that it’s not what you think: it’s not about them living in the woods, but adapting to our society, a story that takes place after what only seems like the true narrative. The completely soulful performances from Ben Foster and Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie create a family dynamic you don’t want to see disturbed, and through small developments there’s a large unease that capitalism and technology could get in its way. Granik’s script, adapted with Anne Rossellini from Peter Rock’s book, has an incredible rhythm with its bare bones scenes, exploring the greatest of emotional stakes in the most deceptively simple way.

3. “Madeline’s Madeline”

In a sense, “Madeline’s Madeline” is a movie that was made for its debut lead, Helena Howard. You understand, about thirty seconds into the film, why Howard warrants her own project, and why a filmmaker like Josephine Decker would mix her own experimental and primal instincts with the talents of her future young star. “Madeline’s Madeline” is delightfully beyond words—describing it as a film about acting and actors is just scratching the surface—but it’s one of the most year’s most hypnotic movies, especially as Decker’s camera toys with point-of-view and takes an approach to editing that is unlike any other film from 2018.

2. “Shirkers” 

I spent much of my Sundance last January recommending to people a little documentary called “Shirkers,” and ramped up that practice when it came out on Netflix this past October. Believe the hype for this movie, which just took our #6 spot on the staff list, and is one of the few docs that has been making waves on #FilmTwitter. It’s both a celebration of and a mystery movie about the lost treasure of a film project that Tan directed as a teenager in 1990s Singapore with her friends, which then disappeared along with her pushy filmmaking mentor, an older white man named Georges, before the film was finished. “Shirkers” has Tan investigating what happened to the project and looking back at her life when she was a teenager making her cool-as-hell film that predates the style of "Ghost World" and Wes Anderson. Perhaps best of all, Tan shares with us the filmmaking daydreams, and the collaborating women, that fueled such an enigmatic passion project. 

1. “Hereditary”

I believe “If Beale Street Could Talk” director Barry Jenkins put it best when he once tweeted to “Hereditary” writer/director Ari Aster, “GIVE ME BACK MY PEACEFUL SLEEP,” followed by six crying emojis. Speaking as someone who has now seen Aster’s masterful debut five times (including an experimental, not recommended double feature at the theater with Fred Rogers doc “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”) I can only affirm the lasting power of “Hereditary” and its perfection as a modern American family tragedy that uses horror language in order to devastate its viewers. 

There are so many elements to cherish about the film, including its exact creepiness with slow-moving shots and deceptively long takes, a score by Colin Stetson that peacefully conjures the devil, and the way that while a first viewing may inspire one to watch it through their fingers, "Hereditary" only gets more disturbing with each viewing. And all of this for a horror film that’s about a household that doesn’t discuss trauma, or about a family plot that’s a highway to hell. Most importantly, however, is the emotional magnitude brought by the likes of Toni Collette, whose viciousness as the central mother can rival the terror of Joan Crawford proclaiming “No more wire hangers” in “Mommie Dearest,” and Alex Wolff, depicting the shattered, silenced nature of trauma. 

"Hereditary" is in the tradition of disturbing films like Kubrick’s “The Shining” or Zulawski’s “Possession"—it's equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, scarring a viewer with the emotional turmoil that's in the foreground. Aster's film messed me up in more ways than one in 2018, and it hurts so damn good. 

from All Content https://ift.tt/2UNJS6a