#this is about constancy

[onebadnoodle]

a monster named constance

[poatop]

🪻Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy🪻

[pedrohub]

NEW unreleased outtake from WIRED’s Pedro Pascal photoshoot

[echofades]

Hannah Taylor & Shira Bolitar | HARLAN COBEN'S SHELTER

[watermel0ns-dumb-cringe]

(,,uhuh tw. brief mentions/implications of s/a.)

DO YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT ISNT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH THAT INFURIATES ME??

Constance's arc in RTC. Literally nobody talks about it and waters her down to just being the nice mom friend™️ which completely undermines the arc she goes through of both

1. Reclaiming her innocence. Throughout the musical there's a LOT of moments that can represent that arc up until sugar cloud

2. How she wasn't happy with her life and didn't realize the good of it until her dying moments. plagued by that thought until she reaches true happiness now knowing she had a good life in sugar cloud

GGGGOD sometimes the blatant undermining of the arcs each character has (,,excluding Jane. I don't think she ever really had an arc; just. Left in despair only knowing her death and the mourning of something she can't remember, wondering if god itself had abandoned her) me so INFURRIATED LIKE RAGHAJRHRRRUJS THERE'S SO MUCH ANALYSIS POTENTIAL AND THEYRE ALL SO WELL WRITTEN TO BE RELATEABLE IN SOME SHAPE OR FORM

Connie was not all just sunshine & rainbows she was going through the mental WRINGER and struggling with her self-loathing & depression up until her death. She probably still dealt with it throughout the musical — now being plagued by even more secrets to keep & the self loathing of what happened just three hours before. (,,example is. the one scene after Ocean goes "We all died virgins" & Karnak pressures Constance a bit. God that scene makes me so ☹️)

She doesn't like. Fully reclaim her innocence & happiness until sugar cloud — which I like to personally think her letting her hair down is representation of her slowly starting to let go of it all. Just. Truly starting to feel happy, like a little kid again. Realizing she had a good life and appreciating what she had now that she's gone. What she went through doesn't define her. Therefore, she doesn't let it hold her back. Letting that inner child out for whats probably the first time in a LONG time.

And I think that's just. A really beautiful thing to her character that gets ignored a lot; which to me is one of the more relatable aspects of her character. Not realizing how much you love everything until something bad happens. From the smallest things like the feeling of getting into bed after a long day— your body finally relaxing after throbbing with pain & exhaustion all day, or even just seeing the smile on a family/friend's face after not seeing them for a while— to the more specific things such as seeing people being happy around you. Happy to be with you. All while knowing what you've gone through doesn't define who you are; letting that little kid inside of you out into the world to truly feel the warmth of the sun.

God sorry I just absolutely love Constance jawbreaker/sugar cloud had me BAWLING the first few times I heard it and I'm not prepared to sob over it again when I see RTC in february,, anyways THIS FUCKASS FANDOM NEEDS TO STOP UNDERMINING ARCS AND REALLY ANALYZE THE CHARACTERS MORE RAGGHHHHHHH

[gen-toon]

your art is absolutely amazing & i truly hope mr. warburton comes across your art and hires you! if it isn't any trouble, could we see some references of sector z in love / flustered / blushing / etc?

[you-are-constance]

one of my favorite things about a lot of different musicals is when they have their opening number reprised in their finale, the same melody and lyrics having an entirely new meaning to them thanks to the context of the rest of the show.

and obviously there are a Ton of examples (Wicked, Come From Away, The Outsiders, SpongeBob... i know there are others i can't think of them), but there are two specific shows that I genuinely think are examples of the absolute best use of this.

to me, those two examples are Cabaret and The Great Gatsby.

like the other examples listed, each time this sort of thing happens, there is new meaning given to the same song thanks to the rest of the show happening in between, but both Cabaret and Great Gatsby have it in like... a very chilling way.

In Willkommen and Roaring On, these are both somewhat upbeat songs, introducing the club, the parties, the energy that the audience is Supposed to feel at this point. nothing else matters in the world, only the thrill of endless entertainment.

but this isn't what these shows are about. there are much darker stories going on underneath, and by the time we get to the finale, the audience is changed along with the characters - but the song is the same. Nothing else Matters. only the thrill of Endless Entertainment. We have No Troubles Here.

but another thing that i find so musically fascinating is that it's not just the audience's perception of the song that changes, no the music itself helps to drive the audience to those realizations. at the orchestra's break in Willlkommen (finale), it begins very similar to the opener, but gradually adds more and more dissonance, making it harder and harder to even bear listening to. In Roaring On (finale), the ensemble lines are just slightly more staccato, slightly more dissonance, slightly more unnerving to listen to.

it's just so fascinating to watch a musical, and have the same song mean something so incredibly different, just because of the context it exists within, and very slight musical changes.

[bi-shop]

when the sheep is sugar

[savannahwiththegreenest-eyes]

[drbandy]

ride the cyclone has decided that now was the best time to re-invade my brain so some rather lack luster drawings i did like yesterday because i have decided spam posting my first day on tumblr is the way to go AND NOO you're not seeing my self insert because that is for ME AND ME ALONE

[booplesnotts-art]

Hecate doodling again 🖤

I don’t give her enough love

[sleepboysummer]

mischa and noel would be the favorites of the fandom. but you... ricky potts... shall be mine!!!!!!!!

[dylankenobi]

I think you can learn a lot about people based on their favorite Ride the Cyclone song. One of my friends is in love with the concept of love, and Talia is her favorite song. Another friend of mine believes in living life to the fullest, even if that means living a wilder lifestyle, and her favorite is Noel's Lament. Then there's me. My favorite is Space Age Bachelor Man 😃

[crepesuzette2023]

Ivan Vaughan writes about John and Paul

This is just a relatively brief excerpt from Ivan Vaughan's book, which, for the most part, focuses on his life with Parkinson's disease. (From what I can tell so far, it's absolutely fascinating: far more than 'simply' a memoir, it's a reflection on illness, the mind-body connection, science, psychotropic drugs, patients' autonomy...and much more.)

But since this blog is climbing the drainpipe to the John & Paul business, and there's been some recent discussion of Mark Lewisohn's claim that John was such a bad boy Ivan's mother sent her son to a different grammar school to separate the two, I thought the following might be interesting.

And the ending of this chapter also gives some context to Paul's reaction to John's murder—another topic about which ML has interesting opinions.

This isn't to pile on ML, but more...as words from someone who was there.

(CC: @mythserene, @anotherkindofmindpod) I met John when I was three or four years old. One wet morning there was a knock at the front door. My mother opened it, and looking down, found a boy a bit older than me, smiling, but preoccupied with the effort of remembering what he had been rehearsed to say.

‘I believe a little boy lives here. I wondered if you might like to come out and play.’ He stood there in the porch, rain pouring down behind him, with a pair of slippers under his arm.

‘Come on in. What’s your name? You live round the corner don’t you?’

Next day I went around to the house where he lived with his aunt and uncle. We played with Dinky cars. I was surprised by his generosity and willingness to share his toys; he was happy even for me to take some of them home. When his Uncle George came home with some sweets John readily shared them. There was an immediate bond between us. He was older, read books, and his great intelligence and experience were apparent. I accepted his leadership but I was determined to preserve my independence. From the warm security of Aunt Mimi’s control, John accepted me into his life.

John was a member of his local library and immersed himself in books so that by the age of five he was already a fluent reader. I was still in the infant school when he started at Dovedale Road Primary School, but we played together after school and weekends. There were numerous parks, a golf course, and fields full of tangled growth and trees — just right for playing cowboys and Indians. In one barren area with large lumps of hard earth we played football and cricket. We spent hours digging all tracks to race our Dinky cars. Our most exciting game, though, was ‘fires’. We would go to a large area of waste ground and simply set fire to the straw and watch the place. I have never understood why nobody stopped us.

John’s gang comprised, besides himself, Pete Shotton, Nigel Wally and me. I was the youngest and was constantly having to prove my worth. I feel privileged to be John’s friend since he was nearly two years older. He protected me against Timmy Tarbuck and his gang on the rare occasions when I made the mistake of confronting one of them.

John and I went to different grammar schools, but I used to hear about the chaos and riots that seem to be a daily feature of his schooling. I’d rather lost touch with him when I went to university, and did not see him again until sometime after I was married. Then one day, as I was playing with my little boy Jus on the steps of our house in London, white Rolls Royce turned into the road. John jumped out followed by a woman I have not met before.

‘Hello, Ivy! This is Yoko.’ (…)

My attachment to both John and Paul ran deep and occasionally I would go to great lengths in order to see them at a moment’s notice. Maybe Paul saw our continuing friendship as a way of maintaining simple values he held dear. Jan liked Paul, though she did not see much of John. She was not the least bit mesmerized by their fame. She enjoyed eating at expensive restaurants in sampling London’s nightlife, into which Paul took us from time to time. But, should the effort to come to great, she was willing to let the relationship fade.

A month after telephoning John in New York [with the news of the Parkinson’s diagnosis; their first conversation in years], a heavy parcel was delivered. It was not until I was reading the titles of the books it contained that I realized they had been sent by John and Yoko. There was one by Arthur Janov, author of the Primal Scream, and one entitled Mind Magic. How to Get Well had on the fly-leaf a message from John that read ‘to start looking’, and The Snow Leopard had a note saying ‘to relax’. This last book gave me the greatest pleasure and I frequently re-read passages from it. Its author, Peter Matthiesen, lost his son through illness and journeyed in Nepal and in Inner Dolpo on a completely pointless journey to catch sight of a snow leopard. The peace he found travels across to the reader from each page.

John’s accompanying letter urged me, in punning language, to keep my spirits high and strongly suggested that it was up to me whether I sank or swam. I must not lose faith in myself.

Ten weeks later he was shot dead. Paul and I did not contact each other about it; in fact, we never brought it up in conversation. I hardly reacted outwardly at all. The day after John’s death, however, a colleague said that he supposed I was very upset at what it happened. I heard myself say: ‘I don’t know what I feel. I don’t know that I feel much at all’. As soon as he had gone, I instinctively made my way to a room where I knew I could be alone, and I wept profusely.

-- from Ivan-Living with Parkinson's Disease by Ivan Vaughan. 1986.

[vickysaurus-art]

To heal the Wounded Wild, simply find a spot with good soil and a lot of sunlight to plant her. Provide her with plenty of water, love, and care, and she should make a full recovery. Though it may take a lifetime, there is no more rewarding gardening experience than the Regrown Wild.

[beepbeepdespair]

how to serve, a guide: wield an axe or hatchet apparently