#union sound 23

[deebeeus]

1962 Gibson SG TV Special.

The only SG TV I have ever seen in real life, photographed with the able assistance of @michaelsegui at @dlott65 & @chriswstringer8's Union Sound '23 event last summer.

[bookofbonbon]

you keep him there - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warnings: Death. Dead Body. Toxic relationship. Toxic!Snow x Toxic!Reader.

Summary: Coriolanus is now President and you his First Lady. Perhaps you don't particularly like him but, you are protective of him.

Word Count: 1213.

You sit in calm silence, hand pressed to your temple - careful to avoid your meticulously styled hair as a cigarette burns between your fingers - the beginnings of a headache coming on as you knead the taut skin softly, waiting patiently for the arrival of your husband. 

You’d known Coriolanus your entire life. A common theme amongst most polite Capitol society. Of course, 15 years on and the divide between old money and new still existed; flimsy but very much still there. 

Were the two of you close growing up? No.

But, did you consider him friend? Also, no. 

At the very least however, did you like him? Not in the slightest. 

Of course, none of that mattered, not when each of you headed your respective families; families who made up half of the remaining four of the Old Guard of the Elite - Snow and Blizzard.

So, it was to no one’s surprise when your betrothal to Snow was announced at 20; the match arranged by your respective grandparents - although you suspected Coriolanus had more of a hand in it than his senile grandmother did - and cementing your union as husband and wife at 21.

So, despite your dislike of the newly minted, 23-year-old President of Panem, his role as husband in your life actually meant something to you - you’d always protect him.

It’s what got you into your current predicament. 

“How many times must I tell you to stop smoking inside?” his voice shatters the silence from where he stands on the other side of the Parlour.

His long legs carry him quickly over to you, a deep scowl etched into his features as he plucks the cigarette from between your fingers and crushes it in the ashtray. 

“The nicotine will stain the walls yellow. Not to mention the smell,” he stands over you, sharp nose turned up in disgust. 

“So, I’ll have an Avox clean the walls and replace the furniture,” you resolve, standing from the plush couch and leading him out of the Parlour and into the Drawing room. “Besides, that’s the least of our material problems, right now.”

“And what about when the nasty habit leads you to an early grave? Hm? What will an Avox do then?” 

You stop outside of the drawing rooms closed doors. Turning to face him, you lean against the frame and smile. 

“Come now, Coco, I thought we agreed never to lie to each other,” you tut. “Let’s not pretend the prospect of an early grave doesn’t secretly thrill you.” 

Coriolanus rolls his eyes at the nickname, he simultaneously hated and grew fond of it. 

“And yet, still you pretend you don’t like me,” he raises an eyebrow at you. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, I would like to grow old with you.”

“Or not,” you smile tightly, turning swiftly back toward the closed doors. 

A lie, you knew Coriolanus held affection for you, no matter how oddly he showed it. Although, the same could be said about you with him. However, it was just that affection - it wasn’t a lie that you didn’t like him. 

“As I was saying, yellow stained parlour walls are the least of our material problems right now,” you open the doors of the drawing room and reveal the dead body on the floor. “Not when Livia Cardew’s fiancé is bleeding out on my new rug.”

“I’m not sure what it is about me that seems to invite talks of treason.”

You find yourself leaning, once again, against the doors frame as Coriolanus steps further into the room.

“Must be all those outward displays of affection you show toward me,” he speaks sarcastically, crouching down. “I'll have a new rug made for you.”

You snort something of a laugh - a rare sound. 

“What did he say?”

“He came to deliver something of a warning to me.” 

You stand behind Coriolanus, placing a hand on his shoulder and peering down at the blue faced and bloody nose body. 

“Is that so?”

You make a noise of agreement, “something about power getting to your head and boasting that he himself was about to step into immense power in a few short weeks when Livia’s mother steps down; that he was doing me a favor by stopping by, if I had any sense I would leave you before it was too late.”

“Truly two pretty little idiots,” you scoff. “As if we’d allow the fool and that idiotic girl to take control of the Capitol’s largest bank. Although, I suppose we should thank them,” you wonder aloud. “They have made it significantly easier on us.”

“Thank you,” Coriolanus pats his cheek and stands.

Ushering the two of you out of the room, he guides you to the front doors with a hand on the small of your back.

You laugh, proper this time; the sound is nice, reminding Coriolanus of a songbird - without the temptation to shoot it dead - and it brings a genuine smile to his face. 

“What of Livia?” you ask, as he takes your coat from an Avox and helps you into it.

“We keep her alive, a small token of our mercy,” he decides. “But we strip her of the majority of her family’s assets on the grounds of treason, replace her with someone Capitol society trusts as heir to the Cardew Empire and leave her with only enough to keep her just above the line of poverty.” 

Turning you toward him, Coriolanus observes you quietly with a strange look in his eye as he tucks a stray hair back into place and fixes the imperfection.

“I supposed I should break the unfortunate news of her never-to-be husband’s passing to her, I’m already ten minutes late.”

You smooth out the front of your coat, stepping out of his reach and out the door but, not before pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Before, you can clear the landing to descend the front steps however, Coriolanus calls to you. 

“Hm?” you turn back to him. 

“Would you…” he trails off, the strange look still in his eye - it’s insecurity.

You don’t point it out.  

“Would I?” you repeat, stepping back within his reach. 

“Leave me,” he finishes, recalling the earlier warning given to you. “I mean, after all, you say you don’t like me.”

His lips pull bitterly.

You almost laugh in his face, that after five years together and all you had done for him that he would still question your devotion to him. 

“I don’t,” you shrug, nonchalant. 

His jaw tenses, ears turning red with anger… or maybe humiliation but, you don’t give him time to dwell on it; crowding his space and gripping his jaw tightly between your fingers, you force him to look at you.

“But, I also don’t have to like you. I love you and that’s enough for me, I can only hope that someday that it’ll be enough for you too,” you loosen your grip. 

Coriolanus swallows thickly, eyes closing as he presses his forehead to yours.

“It’s enough for me,” he whispers. 

“Always remember,” you remind him, pushing him back slightly to look into his eyes “We’re a team. Snow lands on top and…”

“the Blizzard keeps it there,” he finishes.

You keep him there.

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.

[moonpetrichors-blog]

Hey! Can you write a long one shot where Lo'ak/Neteyam is in a serious relationship with a human girl ( they are around 20 years old), and she hears Neytiri talking to Jake , saying that your relationship is impossible, bc you can't procreate. Then the reader sits alone crying bc she really wanted that to happen. Lo'ak/Neteyam finds her and comforts her. Then eywa sees how much they love each other and blesses their union with a pregnancy where the reader survives it? It would be more like a spiritual conception, it doesn't need to be anything sexual if you don't feel comfortable writing it. Mo'at or Ronal would be the ones to tell the news, since they are tsahik. Idk, I just wondered how this pregnancy/baby would be like. I even pictured Lo'ak/Neteyam laying their heads on the reader's stomach caressing and kissing it, calling the baby 'our little miracle'

Spiritualis Conceptio

Tags: AgedUp!Neteyam x Human!Reader, Oneshot, Avatar 2, Fem!Reader, Pregnancy, Like Spiritual??, Also Bonus Uncle Lo’ak

Warnings: Major Avatar 2 Spoiler

Years pass, and you and Neteyam have been living together peacefully with the Metkayina clan. It has always been a dream of yours to have a family, but as a human on Pandora, you know that's not physically possible when your lover is from another species.

I'm gonna be real with you, I had zero clue how to write this. I seriously needed a couple days to mull over how this would work. Would reader pull a Bella Swan? Who knows! This is lowkey a load of bullshit! Also please keep in mind that although I'm writing this, I am a minor and chose to write this non-sexually and went with the spiritual route. I think this falls under more cute domestic scenarios overall anyway so, WHO DOESN’T WANNA SEE DAD NETEYAM???

* ˚ ✦ 1767 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [02/01/23] ❞ 

You wrung your fingers together as you meandered along the beaches of the Awa'atlu village, contemplating mundane matters. One in particular that piqued your interest was something you had been thinking about for a considerable amount of time; a family.

You and Neteyam had been together for several years; you were both adults who had been dwelling with the Metkayina clan for the last decade or so. You'd left the Omaticaya clan with him, hoping to remain near to him wherever he traveled. You believed it was remarkable that he survived after being shot all those years ago, and since then, Neteyam has promised never to leave you.

And since then, you’ve felt like you wanted to further your relationship with him. To have a family with him. It warmed your heart to think of the way he would be with his children. Would he be like his own father, protective and caring? Strict yet present? Or would he let loose, and be carefree with them? These were the questions you ached to know the answers to.

It's not as though Neteyam was oblivious to your desires. In all honesty, he was thrilled that you wanted a family, but you two had never seriously discussed the crux of it beyond the concept itself. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on your behalf, but you sincerely hoped it would be achievable someday.

After a short while, you became bored and weary from strolling over the sand for so long. You decided to return to your humble home, which, despite its small size, contained many fond memories for you. Your ears perked up at the sound of a woman's voice before you could whisk the portiere aside.

Neytiri.

Neteyam had been waiting for you to return from your beach promenade, but when the curtain to your front door was swept away, he was greeted by the sight of Neytiri and his father instead, who had arrived moments before you. He welcomed them, intrigued as to why they were searching for him and bearing poignant expressions.

You hid beside the doorway and eavesdropped. You knew you shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations, but when your partner's mother was arguing with him inside your home, whom can criticize you for wishing to hear?

You subsequently regretted that decision because you wished you hadn't. Neytiri didn't take her time stating what she intended to say; she spoke it bluntly and firmly, as one would expect from someone of her character. She was always this way.

“Your relationship with the human girl is impossible.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken. What?

It seemed as though Neteyam had the same reaction as you (albeit unaware of your presence), as he immediately shot up from his seat.

“Now is when you choose to tell me that? You had years to disapprove of Y/N! What changed?” he was not happy.

Jake sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We overheard you both, talking about wanting a family.”

Neytiri interjected. “It will not happen. It cannot, you are not even of the same species! She belongs with her own people!”

Why were they so adamant about this?

“She is a human girl! You cannot procreate, yet you talk of wanting a family?”

“And? Look at Kiri! She had a human mother!”

Jake placed a rough hand on his son’s shoulder. “Kiri was conceived from Grace’s avatar, Neteyam. No one has ever seen or heard of a human being giving birth to a Na’vi child, let alone be pregnant with one.”

He brushed his father’s hand off of him. “It doesn’t matter.”

You were devastated. You were aware that Neteyam's family had reservations about you, but were they always this antagonistic to your relationship? You opted not to enter your home, tears welling up in your eyes. You dashed away, but before you could truly escape, Neteyam pulled the curtain aside to leave. He spotted your sprinting figure as he grumbled over the discussion he had just seconds before.

He groaned as he raised his palm to his forehead. “Shit.”

Neteyam broke into a run to chase after you.

...

You hid behind some rocks, huddling into your body so that you could cry without anybody finding you. Well, almost. Neteyam emerged from behind one of the boulders you were situated in front of, and sat down carefully so as not to scare you off.

His eyebrows were knitted together in concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You wiped your puffy eyes and sniffled. “I heard Neytiri telling you we can’t be together.”

Neteyam embraced you and stroked your hair.

You began to weep again as you sank into his touch. “I really wanted to have a family with you, but I don’t think that’s possible...”

Neteyam felt a wave of guilt surge through him. Perhaps you wouldn't have been crying if you'd fell in love with a human male instead. Nonetheless, he delicately nuzzled you, trying to soothe your pains.

“It’s okay. I don’t care what my mother says.”

When you glanced up at him, he planted a tender kiss against your lips to quell your sobs. You lamented the absence of them when Neteyam stood up and extended his hand for you to take.

You accepted it tentatively, finally putting an end to your sobs. “Where are we going?”

He gave you a soft smile. “You’ll see.”

...

Thank goodness Tsireya also taught you breathing exercises.

When Neteyam said he’d take you somewhere, you didn’t expect it to be the goddamn spirit tree.

You were underwater, squeezing Neteyam's hand as he approached the foliage. He had informed you beforehand that Eywa might hear his prayers, which is why you were here.

You maintained your grip on his hand in trepidation. Neteyam drew his braid over his shoulder, and nodded once more before attaching his queue to the tree.

You could tell he was begging Eywa to bless you both with a child. You sensed tingles across your skin as you felt the energy of the tree move through your lover, wondering whether your family's future was not completely lost after all.

Once Neteyam finished his prayer, he disconnected his queue and helped you swim back up to the surface.

...

You felt ill.

Seriously, terribly ill. You assumed you ate something unpleasant because you became queasy out of nowhere; what was wrong with you?

Neteyam voiced his concerns about the state of your health, and said that he would leave for a moment and bring back the village Tsahìk.

Ronal stepped inside your marui, and raised an eyebrow at your figure. Why did Jake Sully’s son bring her to you? “She is a human, what could I possibly do to aid her?”

Neteyam grumbled, then admitted to what he had done the few days prior. “We visited the spirit tree, and I prayed to Eywa for a baby. Now Y/N is suddenly sick, and I don’t know why!”

Ronal was taken aback for a time. She gazed at Neteyam, puzzled, then swiftly kneeled by your side. She placed her tools near your head, and you began to groan in agony, sweating from the aching in your body.

Ronal shot a glare towards Neteyam. “You, make sure nobody steps foot into this marui!”

Neteyam was a little slow in processing Ronal's order, but he promptly walked towards the entrance to maintain a watchful eye as she toiled. She spoke in Na'vi, and pressed her palm against your abdomen to interpret Eywa's will.

...

“This human girl, she is pregnant.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, utterly astonished. Ronal had helped to relieve the cramps in your body, but that was overshadowed by the shock you and Neteyam were experiencing at the revelation of your pregnancy.

“I don’t know how this child came to be, but it is clear Eywa’s will has been told.”

You couldn’t help but intercede. “But, Jake said no human has ever been pregnant with a Na’vi child! How is this possible?”

Ronal sighed. “We do not know if this is a Na’vi child yet, but this is clearly some form of spiritual conception. We will simply have to wait and see how the pregnancy goes.”

...

This was not a normal human baby.

The more time passed, the more visible your bump became. Ronal had only alerted Neteyam's family about the pregnancy in case something went wrong with the baby. However, it was becoming increasingly impossible to conceal your body's visible baby bump. Neytiri was surprised at first because she couldn't believe you two had truly conceived a child.

The baby was developing well. To be honest, it was a little too fast for your liking, but it was fine. Aside from the occasional cramps and nausea, your health was excellent, and you were coping well with the pregnancy.

Neteyam was over the moon about your pregnancy. There were numerous occasions when he would lie with you, singing songs to your baby and wondered if they could hear him.

You hoped it couldn’t, because no offense, but his voice was awful. Neytiri’s singing genes did not pass down to Neteyam.

Your favorite moment of those instances though, aside from your lover's atrocious vocals, is when he would kiss and caress your belly while referring to your child as “our little miracle.”

On occasion, you two would dispute over the baby's gender or how much more Na'vi or human it would appear to be. You were certain that your daughter would seem more human, but Neteyam insisted that your son would undoubtedly look like a Na'vi. Furthermore, it was him who prayed for this! He essentially did all of the work!

You would argue that he’s not the pregnant one, and that you’re definitely having a daughter. No questions asked.

Bonus!

You had a son.

Everyone in the tribe was shocked when Ronal announced the pregnancy to them. A child who is both human and Na'vi? It was incomprehensible!

You were absolutely livid as you stood there, Neteyam snickering in the background. Eywa was truly a mischievous deity who relished in playing games.

Neteyam nudged your shoulder in silent laughter. “I told you we’d have a boy!”

You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up! You weren’t even right about him looking more Na’vi!”

You two quietly bickered as Lo’ak held the infant. “Haha, I’m your uncle now! Look at us, we both have demon blood!”

He began to speak in a singsong voice, “demon baabbyy!”

The baby started wailing.

Someone seriously needed to take that child away from Lo’ak before he dropped it in the sand.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 5

The Eleventh Doctor is called the Anti-Squid. It means he is the Devil of the Space Squid Religion.

Kovarian taught the assassins she raised to refer to the Doctor as the Demon and the sound the TARDIS makes as the Demon's roar.

The Eighth Doctor has a tattoo of a man turning into a jaguar.

Grace Holloway eventually worked in a MI6 sponsored genetics lab to test the substance the Master had spat at her during the TV Movie in the hopes of creating a Time Lord-human hybrid capable of regeneration. Unfortunately, the Master had at the time been a Deathworm Morphant, and her associate became a Morphant-human hybrid. The Doctor chastised her for this.

Speaking of experiments involving regeneration, the Forge was an intelligence organization that did all sorts of experiments, including Project: Lazarus. This operation was designed to discover how regeneration worked.

Nyssa collapses in Four to Doomsday and exhibited psychic powers in Time-Flight. This is because Kwundaar, a pre-universe being who had originally created the Source, chose her for his manipulations because she was a Traken native who had left the union.

The Fourth Doctor took Liz Shaw on adventures for a little while.

The First Doctor also tried to kill the would-be dictator as a baby. While queuing up to see the baby at the christening, he dropped the knife he had been planning on using to kill them. Annoyed with his clumsiness, he left with Susan.

Runcible was a hall monitor in the Academy who had mutual bad blood with the Doctor and his friends. He would one day be literally stabbed in the back by the Master.

Borusa taught the Doctor when they were young to fear the regenerative process.

Clara Oswald's mother died on the same day as the Auton Invasion in the episode Rose.

Not all TARDISes are capable of flight.

While being affected by the Gommen Machine, K9 thought that he was a stuntman and that Nyssa was his daughter.

After Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor were splintered in time and trapped in a time bubble, they became something akin to psychic vampires, eating the memories of the villagers nearby.

Anzor was a school bully at the Academy who used a torture device called a galvaniser on his classmates. He would most notably torment the Doctor, using this device and making him do his navigational homework because he wasn't smart enough to do so. The Sixth Doctor was still terrified of Anzor, trying to hide from him when they met.

The Sixth Doctor believed that the Third Doctor had an unusual dress sense.

The Third Doctor was able to control his pheromones to communicate with the Builders, which resembled eight inch slugs.

The TARDIS kitchen restocks itself every morning.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[dnalt-d2]

Christ alive can anyone get a break right now??

(Ahem)

Update time, once again!

Also once again, it is a mixed bag

So to start off with, as most everyone knows, Pomme and Dapper's admins have resigned from their positions. This is incredibly unfortunate, and I honestly don't know what it's gonna mean for the French Creators who said they wouldn't stay on QSMP if Pomme's Admin was fired. Since she technically left of her own volition, I really don't know what they're gonna do

(Edit: I talk about Quackity's stream here but I don't speak Spanish so I can't personally say what was said exactly. Thankfully, it looks like someone JUST POSTED an English Translation so I'm just gonna drop the link here for anyone who wants to read it)

On another note: Quackity has finally given a slight update. For obvious reasons, he can't say anything specific, and I wouldn't have expected him to. But according to the translations I've seen so far, basically said that he can't update because the leaks that happened are creating added complications in the restructuring process. I'm assuming his reason for that is that he simply doesn't want anymore information to be leaked out, but unfortunately, that's just counterproductive to the miscommunication problem

AND SPEAKING OF MISCOMMUNICATION???

So as you all know, I've been in support of the French Union getting involved with this. As I've stated a dozen times now, Unions are meant to be resources, people who inform employees of their rights and do what they can to help them get those rights. As far as I know, one of the main things they do is mediate between the employees and the employers. But APPARENTLY the Union has not attempted to reach out to Quackity outside of Twitter. Which REALLY isn't all that professional. Twitter is a NETWORKING site. Meant to START building connections. Afterwards, people typically move onto email or even discord, which are way better equipped for the long-form communication that's about to have to happen

So even if Quackity WAS active on Twitter, which he isn't. And even if the Union DIDN'T know that, which they do. This isn't the right route to communicate. They have stated that he "has their email" and has to "reach out to them." They are apparently working on the logic that SOMEONE would have had to pass on the information to him by this point, which isn't a fair assumption at all, considering that we know there were Admins ALREADY hiding information from him before all this

They're acting like Quackity is the CEO of a major corporation, with COUNTLESS RESOURCES on-hand. Yeah he's the CEO of this business, but he's also a 23-year-old Twitch Streamer who in all likelihood is learning a LOT about running a business for the first time AS WE SPEAK. I'll tell you right now, when I was 23, I didn't know jack-shit, and I'd still say I don't most of the time. And the only reason I LEARNED jack-shit was because someone would actually TELL me about it. When someone makes mistakes, it REALLY helps them learn when someone is able to not just point out the mistake, but also HOW to fix it. I don't know how they're expecting him to grow from his miscommunication mistakes when they aren't willing to give him the chance to

And yes, there are MANY problems that need to be fixed, as I've said before. But Quackity did outright confirm some of the other things I've said too. That things ARE happening, and we aren't hearing about it. That we aren't GOING to hear about it. Which is fine. It makes sense. We aren't the people who need to know every step of the process. But he is going to have to figure out a better system for talking to the Admins. It's a real problem when he's communicating with people like Aypierre that Pomme's Admin has her job still, but didn't tell the Admin herself

There's still lots of problems, and I know it sounds like I'm just repeating myself, saying to wait and see, but in reality, there isn't much else we CAN do besides that and voice our support

This might be the last time I make a post on this for a bit, because this has been a little draining on me. Which I would normally be able to handle SUPER easy, I'm pretty good at handling stuff like this well enough. But now I've also got real-life stuff reminding me that no matter how much better things SEEM to be getting for me, something's gonna come smack me in the back of the head to remind me that actually things suck, and I just should've known better! And unfortunately that stuff requires my focus more than this. I'll still be here, watching everything, maybe commenting on stuff, but I might not be quite as vocal as I have been

Once again, I remind you all, take care of yourselves first and foremost. Whether it's physical, emotional, or mental, or whatever else. You matter more than the events taking place here right now. My support goes out to all of you, as well as the Admins who VERY WELL COULD BE SEEING THIS APPARENTLY. So I guess this message goes out to them as well lol. You guys rock and I've enjoyed all the contributions you've made

Anyways, see you all later

[coquelicoq]

[ID: A blank American crossword, a 15x15 grid of white and black squares. /end ID]

if anyone wants to test this for me and let me know if you see any mistakes or have any feedback please feel free <3 reminder that usually when i write clues i do not tell you if the answer is more than one word. mwah

ACROSS

1. Something dropped in the club 5. SAG-___ (union involved in a Hollywood strike in 2023) 10. Livens (up) 14. Capital of Norway 15. Clothesline alternative 16. Nomad's tent in Central Asia 17. CHICKEN 19. Something dropped in the bathroom 20. Gathering of witches 21. Finish quickly 23. Elevs. 24. Schedule abbr. 26. What : stands for in an analogy 27. HAM 32. Weasel's cousin 35. Wee 36. Sugary drink 37. ___-Day vitamins 38. ___ and outs 39. CT scan alternatives 40. Letters before an alias 41. Drury ___ (where the Muffin Man lives) 43. It's smaller than a grand 45. TURKEY 48. Prepare potatoes 49. Bill ___, the Science Guy 50. Covered in 55-Down 53. Bandanas 57. Church donation 59. Boo-boo 60. BEEF 62. Large, scholarly book 63. Clinton-era trade pact 64. "Rush Hour" star 65. Gave the go-ahead 66. Type of cheese 67. Shot, for short

DOWN

1. "Garden of Earthly Delights" artist Hieronymus 2. Neckwear named for a racetrack in England 3. Many Eastern Europeans 4. Achy 5. Tally (up) 6. Skillet 7. Onetime maker of toy trains and Tickle Me Elmo 8. Pragmatic sorts 9. Manet and Monet, for two 10. "Monty ___ and the Holy Grail" 11. French bread? 12. UCLA employee 13. Double-___ Oreos 18. ___ nous (confidentially) 22. "Don't go!" 25. Outlaw 27. Video game series with a lot of carjackings: Abbr. 28. Where apple pie is called "Eve with a lid" 29. "Nuts!" 30. Pop singer Brickell or actress Falco 31. "Oh, give it a ___!" 32. Castle defense 33. Egyptian symbol of life 34. Caboose 38. Buck naked 39. Start to behave? 41. Mother of Levi and Judah 42. Hands out, as duties 43. Blue hue 44. "The Hunger Games" baker whose name sounds like a kind of bread 46. Hosted 47. Maps within maps 50. Like a prankster's powder 51. Bargain-basement 52. Kind of question 53. Japanese string instrument 54. Moon of Endor inhabitant in "Star Wars" 55. Frost 56. Stereotypical poodle name 58. Mark of a ruler? 61. Anatomical duct

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Rent control works

This Saturday (May 20), I’ll be at the GAITHERSBURG Book Festival with my novel Red Team Blues; then on May 22, I’m keynoting Public Knowledge’s Emerging Tech conference in DC.

On May 23, I’ll be in TORONTO for a book launch that’s part of WEPFest, a benefit for the West End Phoenix, onstage with Dave Bidini (The Rheostatics), Ron Diebert (Citizen Lab) and the whistleblower Dr Nancy Olivieri.

David Roth memorably described the job of neoliberal economists as finding “new ways to say ‘actually, your boss is right.’” Not just your boss: for decades, economists have formed a bulwark against seemingly obvious responses to the most painful parts of our daily lives, from wages to education to health to shelter:

https://popula.com/2023/04/30/yakkin-about-chatgpt-with-david-roth/

How can we solve the student debt crisis? Well, we could cancel student debt and regulate the price of education, either directly or through free state college.

How can we solve America’s heath-debt crisis? We could cancel health debt and create Medicare For All.

How can we solve America’s homelessness crisis? We could build houses and let homeless people live in them.

How can we solve America’s wage-stagnation crisis? We could raise the minimum wage and/or create a federal jobs guarantee.

How can we solve America’s workplace abuse crisis? We could allow workers to unionize.

How can we solve America’s price-gouging greedflation crisis? With price controls and/or windfall taxes.

How can we solve America’s inequality crisis? We could tax billionaires.

How can we solve America’s monopoly crisis? We could break up monopolies.

How can we solve America’s traffic crisis? We could build public transit.

How can we solve America’s carbon crisis? We can regulate carbon emissions.

These answers make sense to everyone except neoliberal economists and people in their thrall. Rather than doing the thing we want, neoliberal economists insist we must unleash “markets” to solve the problems, by “creating incentives.” That may sound like a recipe for a small state, but in practice, “creating incentives” often involves building huge bureaucracies to “keep the incentives aligned” (that is, to prevent private firms from ripping off public agencies).

This is how we get “solutions” that fail catastrophically, like:

Public Service Loan Forgiveness instead of debt cancellation and free college:

https://studentloansherpa.com/likely-ineligible/

The gig economy instead of unions and minimum wages:

https://www.newswise.com/articles/research-reveals-majority-of-gig-economy-workers-are-earning-below-minimum-wage

Interest rate hikes instead of price caps and windfall taxes:

https://www.npr.org/2023/05/03/1173371788/the-fed-raises-interest-rates-again-in-what-could-be-its-final-attack-on-inflati

Tax breaks for billionaire philanthropists instead of taxing billionaires:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/11/10/winners-take-all-modern-philanthropy-means-that-giving-some-away-is-more-important-than-how-you-got-it/

Subsidizing Uber instead of building mass transit:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/cities-turn-uber-instead-buses-trains/

Fraud-riddled carbon trading instead of emissions limits:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/27/voluntary-carbon-market/#trust-me

As infuriating as all of this “actually, your boss is right” nonsense is, the most immediate and continuously frustrating aspect of it is the housing crisis, which has engulfed cities all over the world, to the detriment of nearly everyone.

America led the way on screwing up housing. There were two major New Deal/post-war policies that created broad (but imperfect and racially biased) prosperity in America: housing subsidies and labor unions. Of the two, labor unions were the most broadly inclusive, most available across racial and gender lines, and most engaged with civil rights struggles and other progressive causes.

So America declared war on labor unions and told working people that their only path to intergenerational wealth was to buy a home, wait for it to “appreciate,” and sell it on for a profit. This is a disaster. Without unions to provide countervailing force, every part of American life has worsened, with stagnating wages lagging behind skyrocketing expenses for education, health, retirement, and long-term care. For nearly every homeowner, this means that their “most valuable asset” — the roof over their head — must be liquidated to cover debts. Meanwhile, their kids, burdened with six-figure student debt — will have little or nothing left from the sale of the family home with which to cover a downpayment in a hyperinflated market:

https://gen.medium.com/the-rents-too-damned-high-520f958d5ec5

Meanwhile, rent inflation is screaming ahead of other forms of inflation, burdening working people beyond any ability to pay. Giant Wall Street firms have bought up huge swathes of the country’s housing stock, transforming it into overpriced, undermaintained slums that you can be evicted from at the drop of a hat:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Transforming housing from a human right to an “asset” was always going to end in a failure to build new housing stock and regulate the rental market. It’s reaching a breaking point. “Superstar cities” like New York and San Francisco have long been priced out of the reach of working people, but now they’re becoming unattainable for double-income, childless, college-educated adults in their prime working years:

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2023/05/15/upshot/migrations-college-super-cities.html

A city that you can’t live in is a failure. A system that can’t provide decent housing is a failure. The “your boss is right, actually” crowd won: we don’t build public housing, we don’t regulate rents, and it suuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.

Maybe we could try doing things instead of “aligning incentives?”

Like, how about rent control.

God, you can already hear them squealing! “Price controls artificially distort well-functioning markets, resulting in a mismatch between supply and demand and the creation of the dreaded deadweight loss triangle!”

Rent control “causes widespread shortages, leaving would-be renters high and dry while screwing landlords (the road to hell, so says the orthodox economist, is paved with good intentions).”

That’s been the received wisdom for decades, fed to us by Chicago School economists who are so besotted with their own mathematical models that any mismatch between the models’ predictions and the real world is chalked up to errors in the real world, not the models. It’s pure economism: “If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’”

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

But, as Mark Paul writes for The American Prospect, rent control works:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2023-05-16-economists-hate-rent-control/

Rent control doesn’t constrain housing supply:

https://dornsife.usc.edu/pere/rent-matters

At least some of the time, rent control expands housing supply:

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1467-9906.2007.00334.x

The real risk of rent control is landlords exploiting badly written laws to kick out tenants and convert their units to condos — that’s not a problem with rent control, it’s a problem with eviction law:

https://web.stanford.edu/~diamondr/DMQ.pdf

Meanwhile, removing rent control doesn’t trigger the predicted increases in housing supply:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0094119006000635

Rent control might create winners (tenants) and losers (landlords), but it certainly doesn’t make everyone worse off — as the neoliberal doctrine insists it must. Instead, tenants who benefit from rent control have extra money in their pockets to spend on groceries, debt service, vacations, and child-care.

Those happier, more prosperous people, in turn, increase the value of their landlords’ properties, by creating happy, prosperous neighborhoods. Rent control means that when people in a neighborhood increase its value, their landlords can’t kick them out and rent to richer people, capturing all the value the old tenants created.

What is life like under rent control? It’s great. You and your family get to stay put until you’re ready to move on, as do your neighbors. Your kids don’t have to change schools and find new friends. Old people aren’t torn away from communities who care for them:

https://ideas.repec.org/a/uwp/landec/v58y1982i1p109-117.html

In Massachusetts, tenants with rent control pay half the rent that their non-rent-controlled neighbors pay:

https://economics.mit.edu/sites/default/files/publications/housing%20market%202014.pdf

Rent control doesn’t just make tenants better off, it makes society better off. Rather than money flowing from a neighborhood to landlords, rent control allows the people in a community to invest it there: opening and patronizing businesses.

Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop. As the housing crisis worsens, states are finally bringing back rent control. New York has strengthened rent control for the first time in 40 years:

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/12/nyregion/rent-regulation-laws-new-york.html

California has a new statewide rent control law:

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/11/business/economy/california-rent-control.html

They’re battling against anti-rent-control state laws pushed by ALEC, the right-wing architects of model legislation banning action on climate change, broadband access, and abortion:

https://www.nmhc.org/research-insight/analysis-and-guidance/rent-control-laws-by-state/

But rent control has broad, democratic support. Strong majorities of likely voters support rent control:

https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/03/07/metro/new-statewide-poll-shows-strong-support-rent-control/

And there’s a kind of rent control that has near unanimous support: the 30-year fixed mortgage. For the 67% of Americans who live in owner-occupied homes, the existence of the federally-backed (and thus federally subsidized) fixed mortgage means that your monthly shelter costs are fixed for life. What’s more, these costs go down the longer you pay them, as mortgage borrowers refinance when interest rates dip.

We have a two-tier system: if you own a home, then the longer you stay put, the cheaper your “rent” gets. If you rent a home, the longer you stay put, the more expensive your home gets over time.

America needs a shit-ton more housing — regular housing for working people. Mr Market doesn’t want to build it, no matter how many “incentives” we dangle. Maybe it’s time we just did stuff instead of building elaborate Rube Goldberg machines in the hopes of luring the market’s animal sentiments into doing it for us.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

[Image ID: A beautifully laid dining room table in a luxury flat. Outside of the windows looms a rotting shanty town with storm-clouds overhead.]

Image: ozz13x (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Shanty_Town_Hong_Kong_China_March_2013.jpg

Matt Brown (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dining_room_in_Centre_Point_penthouse.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[skellymom]

thoughts on the new bad batch trailer?

(i saw it had come out thru @techs-goggles9902 and couldnt be bothered to watch it for hours and now i have im so excited)

~ Jamie <3

Heeeyyyy, @fionajames <3

I just posted a spoiler...looks like someone is back w/their brothers...*cough* Mosshair *cough*

Please take my analysis with a grain of salt as Disney can post flashback scenes, scenes that might look to be part of a whole sequence but are two separate/several ones to throw us off. Plus these is plenty that they AREN'T probably including in the trailer. Should be interesting if there will be a second trailer for S3.

I don't see too much serious evidence that outwardly points to Tech. HOWEVER, I do see two "maybe" possibilities in the trailer and they are both wearing helmets:

Timestamp 1:03, The "X" Clone Trooper shown in the second half of the trailer. Now I have seen one trooper who unalived himself in the last season w/Senator Chuchi and Rex, so we know there are clones still actively working for the Empire. And, if you look REALLY close, Timestamp 0:36, there are more X Clone Troopers in the trailer scene right before the one w/Omega getting scanned. It's a shot from the top of the room showing what looks like 3 X Clone Troopers and a droid. Could one of them be Tech? Don't know.

Timestamp 1:14, The scene with the Imperial armored soldier in the cockpit of his ship lifting his left arm up. Did Tech steal a stormtroopers armor to save his brothers? Remember Tech's "hand signal" callback to S1? Is he signaling to The Batch? Or, also in Tech fashion, is he flailing because of an explosion as Tech sometimes does? Or, is it just a random stormtrooper and not Tech?

Looks like we get Fennec, Rex, Echo, Phee, Howzer, Cad Bane, Ventress, Palpatine, and Scorch.

The scenes in the trailer that REALLY has me scratching my head:

Timestamp 0:28 shows an Imperial Transport ship crashed and smoldering on a large hill. Is it the same ship from Timestamp 1:07? Faraway shot of several figures walking away: The one at the top of the hill looks like Omega. There is a figure either rolling down the hill: Wrecker? Although, silly me who works with dogs...it almost looks like a dog running down the hill. And a figure at the bottom that I at first thought was Crosshair...but then it kinda looks like Rex with the shadowy person walking next to them on the other side. It looks like Phee's hair. Or did this ship only carry Omega as seen in Timestamp 1:23? Did she meet someone on the planet to help her hide? Someone with a dog (I just remember the wonderful scene with the space puppy licking Omega's face and how happy her laugh sounded)?

Timestamp 0:33 is that Crosshair in the left hand side of the screen walking calmly in the opposite direction (that everyone else is running)? Is he settling a score? Is that Clone Trooper "X" (possibly Tech?).

What does the "il" uniform patches on each side of Omega's shoulders mean. I checked the Aurebesh language keys online. Doesn't match up with anything.

Who is CX-1??? Timestamp 1:15. Boba Fett????

Timestamp 1:21, who is the dude in the white and grey armor??? Wait...OH SHIT...is THAT WOLFFE???

I DON'T trust Emerie. She's creepy. Sorry. Not all the clones are tight with one another. I worry she's in secretly with Hemlock.

Are Fennec and Cad Bane working with The Batch? Or against them? Is Ventress teaming up with The Batch against Palpatine? Or is she truly fighting them at the end? Or is that just two separate scenes meant to look like they go together?

And, something that makes me sad: Both Hunter and Wrecker look older, more aged. They are still so handsome. However, with the stress of what they have gone through, plus their advanced aging...well, how long do they have left? The still of Echo doesn't look like he aged at all. Could it be that he isn't as accelerated due to what the Techno Union did to him? Or were The Batch genetically altered to be so specialized...but live even shorter lives than the Regs?

[athingofvikings]

A Thing Of Vikings Chapter 26: Aftermaths

Chapter 26: Aftermaths

Battle of the Sound of Berk

Date: 15-16 October, AD 1041

Location: Sound of Berk, ~56.8 N, ~6.3W

Result: Decisive Hooligan Victory

 Belligerents

Hooligan Tribe of Berk

Kingdom of Norway

Personal Union of King Harthacnut

●   Kingdom of Denmark

●   Kingdom of England

Commanders and Leaders

Stoick Haddock I

Hiccup Haddock III

Astrid Haddock I

Magnus Fairhair I

Harthacnut of Denmark (POW)

Godwin of Wessex (POW)

Leofric of Mercia

Strength

124 dragon-rider cavalry, various types

~300 unmounted Monstrous Nightmares (Stoker-class dragon)

1 aerial gravity bomb platform, Gronckle-carried (Boulder-class)

146 longships

2,000 heavy Norse infantry, armed with bows

3,000 men-at-arms (mixed English and Danish), armed with bows

3,000 conscripts (mixed English and Danish)

Casualties and losses

19 human fatalities

23 dragon fatalities

24 humans wounded

35 dragons wounded

~2,200 dead or missing in action

~700 wounded

~40 longships destroyed

~15 longships captured

Capture of King Harthacnut

Capture of Earl Godwin of Wessex

Capture of Sweyn Godwinson

Capture of 15 lesser nobles (List)

691 other prisoners (List)

The Battle of the Sound of Berk was a naval/aerial battle in the waters of the Sound of Berk, between the forces of the combined Danish and English fleets and army under the leadership of King Harthacnut, and the Hooligan tribe of Berk, under the leadership of Dragonlord Stoick The Vast and then-Herald Hiccup Haddock. 

This battle was the only engagement of the undeclared First Berkian-English War, and featured multiple firsts in the history of warfare, including the first deployment of dragons against naval targets, the first use of dragons in a military setting by humans, and the development of dragon-dropped gravity bombs.  The results of the battle was a decisive Berkian victory, and heralded a new era of warfare.

—Battle of the Sound of Berk (n.d.) In Wikikenna.  Retrieved September 26, 1847

AO3 Chapter Link

~~~

My Original Fiction | Original Fiction Patreon

[copper-dragon-in-disguise]

Ik you like talking about this and I’m actually like rly interested so what’s the aids quilt and triangle shirtwaist factory fire?

(It’s in your bio and as you probably know I hate looking stuff up and prefer talking to people-you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to)

*jumps up like the human equivalent of !!! and sprints to the computer to answer this properly with sources and shit* !!!!!!!!!!!

YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE TRIANGLE SHIRTWAIST FACTORY FIRE AND THE AIDS QUILT?????????? !!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS SO MUCH ASTER I'M SO EXICTED I'M NOT GOING TO SHUT UP FOR LIKE AN HOUR THIS IS AMAZING

(you have unlocked the Special Interests and now i won't shut up ever. :DDDDDDDDDD)

....well. I wasn't going to put a cut and then it got really, really long, so there's a cut about halfway through for the sake of peoples dashboards.

first up:

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire

(tw/cw: intentional endangerment of workers, death, suicide (unplanned/unintentional), graphic depiction of death)

short version: the triangle shirtwaist factory fire was one of the deadliest industrial disasters in US History and, I believe, the deadliest industrial disaster in the history of New York City. It was a key point in labor rights & union movements, and 146 people died, almost all recently immigrated women and girls between the ages of 14-23.

long version: at ~4:40 pm on march 25th, 1911, a fire broke out in a scrap bin under a cutting table in the triangle shirtwaist factory, which occupied the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the Asch building in new york city (manhatten, greenwich village specifically).

the factory produced shirtwaists, a popular kind of women's blouse. (it was a sweatshop, which is relevant for future reasons). It was owned by Max Blanck and Issac Harris, who had previously had four (? possibly 3) fires at other factories, and been investigated for them (it was suspected that one or more of those said fires were the result of arson by the owners). the workers were, for the vast majority, recently immigrated jewish & italian women and girls, from age 14 and up, but most were between 14 and 25. The oldest victim was 43. (of the victims whose ages are known). They earned $7-12 a week (approx. $190-326USD in 2020 dollars), or approx. $3.65-6.29 per hour in today's money. at the time of the fire, there were approx. 600 workers in the building.

the asch building was 10 floors in total, and the top 3 were occupied by the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. The doors leading to the staircases were locked, to prevent workers leaving early or taking breaks. There were supposed to be 3 staircases, but there was only two; the city had allowed the owners to build a single fire escape in lieu of the third staircase. this fire escape may have been broken before the fire, and it was certainly broken afterwards. one of the staircases managed to be unlocked, but it became impassible either up or down within 3 minutes of the fire's start.

when the fire flared up, the first alarm was sounded by a passerby outside, who saw smoke coming out the windows at 4:45 pm.

the fire department arrived shortly after, but their ladders could only reach the 7th floor (the fire start on the 8th). some workers excaped via the roof (several years ago I heard a story about a guy who was teaching in the building next door and him and his students saw the people on the roof and were able to help them get over to the building the professor was in and not ontop of the burning one, but I can't find it again to validate it so take that with a grain of salt), and some got into the elevators while they were still working. the elevator operators were able to make 3 trips before the elevators stopped working from the excessive heat (the steel beams holding them bent and made it impossible to attempt).

inside the building, people on the 8th floor were able to warn people on the 10th floor by means of a telephone, but with the staircases locked there was no way to warn those on the 9th floor, and a survivor said (paraphrasing): ''the first warning of the fire arrived at the 9th floor at the same time the fire did''.

146 people died. 123 women and girls, the vast majority between the ages of 14-23, and 23 men and boys (I cannot find a clear age for them). 61 people died from jumping to their death or falling to their death out of the windows of the building. the fire department had nets meant to catch people, but velocity is velocity and the nets did nothing. people jumped out the windows hoping that the nets would catch them or they might survive, or that at least that had a better chance of survival than remaining inside the fire. 20 of these were on the fire escape & attempting to use it when it collapsed, dropping them 100ft to the sidewalk and killing them.

36 people died in the elevator shaft, after it started to break. (they attempted to jump/slide down the cables, and it did not work).

49 people burned to death or suffocated in the smoke.

the entire fire took 18 minutes.

The bodies of the victims were taken to Charities Pier (aka Misery Lane) to be identified. All but 6 were, and those 6 were buried together in the Cementer of the Evergreens in brooklyn (they were later identified by a historian named michael hirsch in 2011, after 4 years of research). they are now all buried together there, underneath a monument to the tragedy.

it caused a surge in the efforts of the International Ladies' Garment Workers Union, and eventually resulted in the passing of ~38 new york state labor laws.

The AIDs Quilt

(tw/cw: regan (referenced), death (nowhere near as bad as above))

The AIDs quilt is a memorial quilt commemorating those who have died of AIDs (at any point, not just during the AIDs crisis (fuck you ronald regan)), with panels sewn by family members and friends. It was begun in 1987 in San Fransisco by Cleve Jones. It is considered the largest community folk arts project in the world, and consists of nearly 50,000 panels honoring approx. 110,000 people.

Each panel is 6' by 3' (about the size of a standard grave), and four of them are sewn together to make large blocks that are then sewn/tied together. sometimes it goes on display, the most recent time in june 2022.

there is an interactive online version of the quilt, which you can find here.

here it is zoomed out as far as I could get

here are some of the larger blocks of the quilt

and here are some individual panels.

that's mostly all I have to say about it, but its incredible, and my favorite art project of all time.

(i don't have the spoons to add image descriptions to the photos, I am sorry, I will try to do it later when I remember)

[deebeeus]

Junior Killer.

1960 #Epiphone#Coronet with extremely rare Bikini logo headstock, no "E" on the pickguard, and inked serial number, on top of a nicely worn (and excellent sounding) tweed 1959 #Fender#Super#amplifier.

Yesterday was the big, annual, @dlott6 / @chriswstringer8#UnionSound#Toronto Guitarpalooza Show & Tell Get-together, and here is the very first pic from the afternoon's festivities!

Though this was the most humble and least pricy of all the guitars that showed up to the event, it was my favourite! I have always had a thing for Coronets, even though I have never actually held one before yesterday (I have literally never seen one for sale around here in 12+ years of near constant guitar shopping!). Oh also, this one was an incredible 5 lbs! FIVE LBS!!!

I love this shot so much, and I'd LOVE to take credit for the art direction on it, but I just pushed the shutter release. The set up was 100% @michaelsegui's concept. Oh and the piano stool (for standing on), was provided by the studio (thanks Chris!). 😉

More photos to come!

[esta-elavaris]

Flufftober Day 13: Reading Together - James Norrington/OC [839 words]

* this prompt comes from an alternative list I found, and isn't for one of the official Flufftober prompts.

This one is very short, but I love it all the same.

My Flufftober '23 masterpost can be found here, and my behemoth of a main fic about these two is here 💜✨

One thing that amused Theodora, upon returning to Port Royal with her shiny new husband, was how little things had changed. Okay, everything had changed, short of Beckett painting the town the colours of the Union Jack and erecting statues of himself all over Port Royal, it could hardly change more. Said statues would likely not be to scale.

But there were glimpses of the routine they’d fallen into when they’d last lived here with one another…just less bullshit in the way. They were themselves as they had wished to be, all that time ago. As much as they could be, circumstances considered. For instance, they still read together in the evenings – when time and energy permitted. But now they did so on the same sofa, with her legs strewn across his lap, his free hand nestled beneath her skirts so that his fingers could trace lazy circles up and down the inside of her calve. Either of which would have been enough to induce heart attacks for the both of them back then, wound tight as they’d been where the other was concerned.

Although she could hardly pretend it didn’t induce a few flutters now.

Furthermore, now she could annoy him much more than she’d been able to back then without just being downright rude. That was pretty nice, too. Which was precisely why she was setting out to do it now – although it wouldn’t do if he caught on too quickly.

“Can you tell me what this word means?” she asked.

It wasn’t even immediately clear that she was playing daft – for she’d arrived in the past just early enough for lots of words, and the spellings of those words, to be unrecognisable to the modern eye. Leaning forward, he peered at the word directly above her thumb nail. To his credit, his eyes did flicker towards her suspiciously, but it scarcely lasted a second – maybe fearing she was being genuine and without any wish to mock her in that case.

“Providence.”

“Oh. It’s spelled differently back home. My mistake.”

He nodded as if to say no matter and she settled back down, his fingertips resumed their thoughtless circles as he returned to his own book. She counted to twenty before she spoke again.

“What about this one?”

This time she was given no such benefit of the doubt.

“…Continual. As in, you are a continual menace.”

“James Norrington!”

“That word is but two words after the last one – it did not take you a half a minute to get through those two words alone.”

“They’re very tricky words!”

“'Is the'?”

“Is the what?”

“Theodora.”

She grinned, returning her eyes to the page. This time she counted to thirty – a feat of self-mastery, indeed.

“And this one?”

He rolled his eyes, and read the rest of the sentence in its entirey, likely thinking he was saving himself from a few minutes of harassment by doing so. Which was very cute of him.

“'And Exact Guide of her Executive Power.'”

Theo beamed.

“Oh, that was good! Well done! While you’re here, you may as well read the rest of the paragraph. The page, even. Go mad! Wow me.”

“Theodora,” the bite was taken from the groan by the way he was visibly fighting a smile.

“James.”

“I’m not reading this book to you.”

Theo groaned as if wounded.

“But you have that voice! It’s not fair to keep it all to yourself.”

“I don’t, I use it to shout at very incompetent men every day,” he countered drily.

“But never me. I feel neglected,” she complained in return.

“Because I don’t shout at you?” he stared at her in exasperated disbelief.

Theo chose not to answer, artfully deflecting instead.

“There’s a whole paragraph in Latin coming up, I bet you’d sound lovely speaking Latin!”

“According to you, I sound lovely speaking any language.”

“So I’ll settle for just the English bits, then.”

“Sola lingua bona est lingua mortua.”

Theo had no idea what he was saying then, but she was fairly certain that he was either insulting her, or just showing off. Either way, it didn't change her response.

“I love you, too.”

In response to her profession, something in his face softened - only a little - in such a way that almost had her feeling guilty for weaponising it. But she so enjoyed finally being able to say it. For it to no longer be a secret, nor a problem. She grinned as he plucked the book from her hand with a beleaguered sigh and began to read aloud to her. The way his hand began to creep upwards from her calve was just an added bonus.

Notes: James says to Theo - the only good language is a dead language. So he was showing off. And we love him for it.

Links: AO3 -- FF.net -- flufftober masterpost -- dividers by cafekitsune

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 7-8

Around this point I actually read back and asked myself, "Is this moving too fast?" Then I remember the speed at which a Leverage episode actually moves and the kind of beating Harry usually picks up each book, and went, "Nah."

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SEVEN

The divide between magic and technology is a known quantity. Every wizard knows to stay away from most mechanical things; the more complex they are, the more likely they were to break. The more powerful the wizard, the quicker it was gonna happen. Even knowing these things, I hadn't realized how deep that boundary ran until I tried to find out anything about my prospective employers.

If it had been a magical entity, a spell, an artifact, between Bob and I we could have probably found out at least the basics, but Bob couldn't find out anything about the Leverage people. I wasn't crazy enough to try and scry something in Boston, never mind the range.

All I could tell was that Leverage was, apparently, a purely mundane affair. Based in Boston as they were I didn't doubt they'd run themselves into something other that the average human, but as the afternoon dragged on I began to realize I was going to have more luck finding out what, rather than getting any sort of information on whatever Deveraux and Ford actually had going on.

A smart man would have said no on principle. What little I could find out told me that if things had gotten so bad that an entirely non-magical outfit like Leverage had come looking for a wizard, then they were bad enough that walking away unscathed to enjoy that absurdly large paycheck was not guaranteed. Not even 50/50 odds.

But 50/50 was still better than no odds at all.

And I hadn't lied when I told Deveraux that I'm a curious man.

She'd written a number on the back of the card. Not a hotel, so they could have been anywhere. I eyed it while I called Butters and asked him to look after Mister while I was away. Then I called it.

"Harry." Deveraux actually sounded happy to hear me; it was refreshing.

"Train. The older the better," I told her. "That applies to any tech you want near me, too. Mouse comes with me."

"Yes, of course."

"The daily fee is… good." My voice cracked a bit despite my best attempt at sounding like it was not a holy-heck amount of money. I cleared it. "It's good. But I can't go longer than a week. One week and I'm coming back home, even if your problem's not solved."

"That's fine."

"And I need a basement."

"A b… A basement?"

"It's contained in case something bad happens."

"Ah." The fact she didn't ask questions told me containment was a common concern in both her line of work and mine. "Anything else?"

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head. I'm sure something will come up." Something did almost immediately. "A full briefing as soon as I'm there. No secrets, no lies. If I find out you've lied to me, I'll leave."

"We'll tell you as much as we know," she assured me, and I found myself believing her. "Welcome to the team, Harry."

It felt weird to be welcomed, to be made to feel as if I were part of a team that actually wanted me there. "When do you think you'll have everything ready?"

There was laughter in her tone. "When do you think you'll be packed?"

Three hours later I was at Union Station, being escorted off the oldest VW minibus in existence and onto a rail car that apparently I had all to myself, like something out of an Agatha Christie book. I'd packed Bob, my tools, a quick-spell kit, any books I thought might help, and a change of clothes. Mouse looked mournfully at me as the train began to move, and I couldn't blame him; it felt as if I were leaving a piece of myself behind.

I knew Chicago. It was home. I knew the people, the streets. I knew its seasons, its weather. I knew the hangouts of most of the dangerous creatures in it, both human and inhuman. I knew every layer of it, every mood, every current.

I knew very little about Boston except that it was a supernatural melting pot. Most creatures that crossed from the Old World or from Other Places and didn't come through the Nevernever landed in Boston; many stayed there, made lives there. There were inhuman families that were generations old, living side by side with the descendants of human immigrants. The divide between mortal and supernatural was as thin as my willpower in Boston.

Look, Deveraux had handed me a really big number.

The train never stopped. That struck me as weird, but then I'd never traveled first class on a train before, so I had no bar for normal. I tried to sleep, but the novelty of everything wore off a couple of hours into the trip, and panic began to settle in. What the hell was I doing? I was Chicago's wizard, not Boston's!

Well, it was done. The AC broke about halfway through the trip, but with the windows open I never even noticed. I got my books out and read, trying to give myself a crash course on the magical scene in Boston, so to speak. Mouse took over one of the windows and seemed to have forgiven me, head thrust out into the wind of our passage, jowls flapping and the plume of his tail wagging sedately. He scared the crap out of the one person I did see, a young man who brought me breakfast and lunch, somehow still warm.

The sun had just set when the train pulled into the Back Bay. I could feel the air buzzing all around me with an imperceptible, invisible charge, the ambient energy of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of supernatural creatures crackling against my senses. I felt both supercharged and itchy, and Mouse shook himself furiously when we finally made it off the rail car.

There was a man waiting for me on the concourse. He was tremendously solid, the sort of build I used to wish for when I was young, heavy muscle under a worn leather jacket, faded blue jeans and comfortable curb-stomper boots. He had long, very fine brown hair and oddly guileless blue eyes. He had stubble matching mine and he straightened up from his lazy slouch with the ease of someone perfectly at peace with the world around him.

I couldn't see the bulge of a gun anywhere, but I was pretty sure this was Leverage's heavy hitter.

Then he grinned at me, and his whole face lit up, and I thought maybe I was wrong. "Dresden?"

"That's me," I admitted.

He offered his hand without hesitation. "Eliot Spencer. Eliot's fine. Sorry to drag you so far from home."

This man was a walking contradiction. His hands told me I was right. His attitude told me I was wrong. He was the nicest, friendliest man with violence as his main occupation that I'd ever met up to that point in my life. He meant every word of his apology. He was sizing me up for threats.

Belatedly, I realized that Boston was literally supercharging me. My senses, both magical and normal, were trying to run away with me. I had nothing else at the moment; I clung to the hand Eliot Spencer offered, to the strength in it. "Oh, you didn't, not really. Too curious for my own good. Give me a second, would you?"

"You ok, man?"

"Just a little… drunk on the night air," I said, knowing how that had to sound to him.

I was not expecting the change that went over him. It was seamless, instantaneous. One moment Eliot Spencer was welcoming me to his home like a ray of sunshine; the next he was all deadly intent, a sort of quiet, intangible menace radiating from him like the darkest light. "A problem?" he asked mildly.

It told me two things; one, that I was right after all and two, that whatever had brought me to Boston was big enough to have this calm, steady man on a hair-trigger. "No, it's…. Boston's busy. Boston's real busy when it comes to magic. It hangs in the air, makes it thick, and it's giving me a head rush."

"Chicago's not like that?"

"No. The Lake grounds it. Water's good for that."

"I could take you by the Charles if it would help - hey!" And just like that the ray of sunshine was back when Mouse came trotting back from wherever he'd gone to take care of his business. Eliot dropped down to a crouch. "Who's this, Mouse, I think?"

"Yeah. Just watch out, he's not always -" Mouse, tail a blur, charged the Leverage man with a delighted huff and proceeded to lick anything Eliot didn't vigilantly protect, making him chuckle. Well. That was new. And good news for me. "Friendly. He was also a lot smaller when he was a puppy."

Eliot straightened up, rubbing Mouse's head with rough affection. My dog looked blissful, tongue lolling to one side. "Bait-and-switched you, huh."

"It might've been, if he'd given me any choice in the matter."

"He's big for a Tibetan Mastiff," Eliot pointed out. "Wrong color, too."

"He's not. He's a Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

Again that brief pause. Eliot looked down at Mouse. Mouse looked up at him.

The Leverage man grinned again and rubbed Mouse's ears. "Eh, he looks dog enough for me. Anyway. If you're feeling better, let's get you settled. I rented a van."

"Cars get temperamental with me around."

"Dresden, if you can break down a u-Haul, I'll believe you're a wizard no further questions. Where's your luggage?"

EIGHT

Apparently the Leverage people weren't unfamiliar with what happened when you put magic too close to tech. I was put up in their 'temporary' quarters, a small house a lick away from their actual place of business, a loft over a bar by the incredibly Irish name of John McRory's Place.

The house was nice. It had a fenced yard that Mouse promptly claimed as his own and a finished basement that I promptly claimed as my own. The bedroom looked suspiciously like someone had ordered it directly from a catalog, sheets and all. The only other rooms that were accessible were one bathroom and the living room, which had been set up as a meeting area of sorts. The kitchen was empty. The other rooms were full of crates.

There was dinner from the pub waiting for me that night, and a phone in a manila envelope. I offered to share my beer with Eliot; the phone died with a sad little squawk before we finished it.

"That's gonna make things hard," he admitted wryly, examining the dead screen of the phone. "I take it a bluetooth's out of the question?"

"The more parts to it, the quicker it goes."

I saw him get very thoughtful. "What about size? The bigger it is?"

"How big are we talking about?" I asked mildly, sensing a chance to finally get some information as to what had brought me to Boston.

"TV screen," Eliot answered without hesitation, then spread his arms. "Yay big."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Trying to get a composite from a bunch of blurry pictures."

"What happened?"

"It cracked." He grinned wryly. "Top to bottom. We took that thing out to the recycling in two halves." His jovial mood faded. "I don't like the look on your face right now, Dresden."

"You shouldn't." I was trying to think of creatures that could shatter a screen like that, with just their image, without actually being there. It was a short list; it was also a very scary list. "It wasn't anything else, it had to be the picture?"

"The man who works our tech is the best, hands-down. His equipment doesn't blow up like that without a good reason," Eliot said calmly, then put his hands up. "Wait, no, I'm supposed to let you rest tonight. You're gonna hear all this tomorrow morning anyway."

"I did nothing but sleep on the train ride," I told him. I won't lie, it felt nice to know the Leverage outfit, whatever their business might be, gave enough of a damn to give me the night to myself. Most people who hire me for that kind of money expected 24-7 service, never mind what kind of shape I might be in at the end of the day. "Tell me what you can."

He gave me one of the few measuring looks I've ever gotten that didn't have my harm at heart before he made a decision and tipped his head toward the pub. "Come on."

"Mouse, watch the place." Mouse flopped in front of the door and settled down with a yawn.

The front of the pub was roaring, but we came in from the back. Eliot knocked softly on a door, poked his head in and murmured something to someone in there. I caught a faint whiff of something sweet, almost like licorice - probably a storage room, and a bottle of liquor had broken and been cleaned up. Eliot got his answer; he closed the door and we moved on. He peeked out into the main floor and called out something I couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd before heading to a pair of elevator doors.

I stopped walking. "Uh…"

He paused, turned, and led me to the stairs, grinning. "You know, I don't even think about most of this stuff. Tech's embedded so deep into our lives."

"I just wish for a hot water heater that didn't break in under a week," I told him.

"Yikes."

"Yup."

"Just keep your distance from Hardison's tech," Eliot warned me as he led me into a vast, elegant little loft. The bare brick walls had paintings on them that looked… modern. Expensive. I didn't know enough about art back then to appreciate what they were. A spiral staircase led up to what was probably a bedroom, and behind it was a typical modern kitchen. Most of the open space was taken up by a very modern, very sleek meeting room sort of setup, a wall full of screens and a small curve of desks before it. "He's still sore about those screens."

"Screens? More than one?"

"Yeah, a second one a day after -"

A young woman came flying into the loft. "Where is he? Where's the wizard?"

"Parker, don't -"

She whirled and faced me, and immediately made a face. "Aren't you supposed to have a white bushy beard?"

"Not for another couple hundred years."

I hadn't expected my quip to bring her up short, but it did. She seemed to really think about it, and it gave me a chance to examine her. She was young, wiry, blonde, pretty. She had the same kind of intensity Karrin had, but her focus seemed to change from minute to minute.

"Oh. I didn't think about that. There have to be young wizards to get old wizards."

"Parker." Eliot sighed.

"No robes?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Fancy spell books?"

"I do have one of those."

"Can I see it?"

"Parker, let the man catch his breath." Sophie Deveraux looked cozy and elegant and beautiful in a flowing blue blouse and a shimmering gray skirt. She beamed at me and I felt warm and fuzzy. Look, I'm man enough to admit it, I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, particularly one that doesn't want me dead. "Harry."

"Miss Deveraux."

"Just Sophie, Harry, please. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait?"

"I'm good. I got all my rest in the train ride. Boston's full of energy, and it's making me buzzed, I rather put some of it to work, get it out of my system -"

"Why do you carry a stick?"

I whipped around. Parker had my wand in her hands.

Hell's Bells, I'd never even felt the theft. My wand, and I would have never known she'd gone for it if she hadn't said something.

Something in my face clued Sophie and Eliot that things had gone very badly, very quickly. "Parker!" Sophie cried out.

With all the care of someone handling live explosives, Eliot closed a hand over the 'stick'. "We are trying," he told her, sticking to his calm demeanor like tar, "to make a good impression, Parker."

"Oh, fine. Should I give everything else back?"

I took the quickest stock of my person I'd ever taken in my life. Immediately I found another thing missing that I would have never thought could be taken from me without my notice. How in the hell -!

"Yes!" Sophie told her firmly.

"Well, he didn't have anything interesting anyways," Parker put out her hand with my wallet on it.

And my shield bracelet.

Eliot offered me my wand back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, man."

"I just - how?" Seriously. Never mind the theft, everything was coming back to me, nothing was broken, no one was hurt, I just wanted to know how she'd done it.

"Parker is the best in the world," Sophie said, somehow managing to convey warm pride and icy disapproval all in one. Parker squirmed uncertainly. "She should also bear in mind that as of now you're part of our team, and we don't pickpocket teammates."

Parker held strong under the tone of disapproval longer than I would have. "Sorry," she muttered with ill grace.

"No harm no foul if you teach me how to do it."

She grinned, just a little. "Deal."

"Also, where should I stand so I'm as far away from anything tech-y as possible?"

"Right there." Nathan Ford had arrived, and the mask was off. He still looked vaguely friendly, a little rumpled, somewhat distracted. But there was nothing hiding the ruthless ice in his eyes anymore, or the deep mistrust in the gaze he leveled at me. I was in his world, in his domain, I was his employee. The carrot had done her job, the stick didn't have to mind his manners anymore. "Right there's fine, mister Dresden."

Ford passed everyone by and moved to the kitchen to find himself, apparently, some coffee. "Where's Hardison?"

"He said he wanted to take a few more pictures of the cylinder we found at the museum," Eliot told him. "He's in the storage room."

"What cylinder?" Something was bugging me. It wasn't big, at least not big enough to pin it down, but it was there, nagging at the back of my mind like a toothache after too much sugar.

"There was an issue at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Sophie told me. "Someone tampered with the fire suppression system. They attached some kind of homemade cylinder to the system and it started pumping something out in the air, some sort of perfume." She shrugged lightly. "We don't know why, there was no need for it."

"Perfume?"

"Yes. Fernflower."

I was running the next moment, going on a guess and a prayer. The guess was that the closed door was the storage room. The prayer was that I wouldn't be too late.

The moment I hit the bottom floor a faint reek of sweet, rotten candy and burning flowers made me reel back, coughing, my lungs burning. I could definitely smell the fernflower; worse, I could also smell night's breath. This was some deep, deep magic. Deep and old. Someone had cooked up a Burning Witchwell, and Leverage had blundered right into it. Only luck had kept any of them from being magically inclined, but that luck had run out with the fernflower.

Eliot was right behind me, and he threw a hand over his face. He snatched a bunch of cloth napkins from a nearby shelf and shoved them at me. "What is that?!"

I ran on and shoved the door open to the storage room. There was a man kneeling on the floor before a table, wheezing. The fernflower fumes burned my eyes and I actually heard my skin hiss on contact with the night's breath, but I was running on Boston air. I was so charged up I barely registered any pain.

"Venti, ventum!" I shouted. Wind poured into the storage room. Everything went flying off the shelves. I felt my magic careen out of control, as supercharged as I was, and fought to bring it back under control. I didn't want to wreck the room, I just wanted to get the man to safety, away from the fumes.

"Hardison!" Eliot had already dashed past me, catching the man. He was lanky, lean, deceptively muscled, possibly an inch or so taller than me. His skin was very dark and it had gone blotchy where the night's breath had had time to settle down and sink in. He slurred something unintelligible and squinted intently at me; I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was seeing.

"Dresden?!" Eliot asked, spitting his own hair out of his mouth.

"Go, get him out!"

He didn't question me. I could have danced a happy jig at that show of trust. I backed out of the room; I was one step past the doorway when helpful hands slammed the door shut. "Does the ventilation system here connect to the pub?"

"No, it goes straight out," Ford replied.

"Then just put some…" The borrowed energy from the Boston ambiance ran out. I felt pain creep up over any part of me not covered by fabric. "Put some…"

"Sophie, put some towels at the bottom," Ford's voice was full of calm, focused competency. "Parker, go tell the front of house no one is to come into this room until one of us says otherwise. Eliot." There was a pause. "Dresden, is a hospital going to help either of you?"

"He's fine." Oh, that was Ford's shoulder under my arm, holding me up. When had that happened? "Unless he's got magic, he's just drunk. Sort of."

"And you?"

"I'm a little blistered." I was a little more than blistered, but I had the advantage of knowing the damage wasn't real. "No hospital. A bath."

"Alright. Let's get you and Hardison up to the loft, then."

I wasn't in any shape to argue. I got shoved under a spray of miraculously hot water. Someone peeled my clothes off. At some point I realized I trusted only two people in the loft, and one of them was helping undress me. "Wash your hands," I told Eliot. "Wash the clothes."

"Can we burn them?"

"Don't burn my clothes, I didn't bring any more." I stared at him suspiciously; well, there was only one person I trusted anymore. "Tell Parker to watch my things."

Eliot offered a sound of deeply amused disbelief. Somewhere nearby a man's voice was tunelessly singing what sounded like a church song. "Drunk?"

"Intox… Intec… Sort of. Fernflower gives you magic. See things. Talk to animals. Sorta thing. But it's eph… emph…. It fades quick. You gotta lace it with… other stuff. It It wasn't the weapon, the night's breath was."

"Night's breath?"

"Old plant. Burns up magic. Night's breath was fire. Fernflower was gasoline. 's called a… a Burning Witchwell."

"You aren't breathing right, man."

"Fake. I'll be fine when my…. when my magic comes back. Easy, in this place."

"Fake damage." At that Eliot did look disbelieving. "Hurt's hurt."

"Particularly if you believe in it," I shot back, then put my head up to the spray of hot water. "Oh, that feels good."

I heard Eliot snort in amusement. "Well, enjoy it while you can. Haven't blown up this heater."

"Give me a chance, I just got here."

[strictlyfavorites]

Quit trashing Obama's accomplishments. He has done more than any other President before him. Here is a list of his impressive accomplishments:

1. First President to be photographed smoking a joint.

2. First President to apply for college aid as a foreign student, then deny he was a foreigner.

3. First President to have a social security number from a state he has never lived in.

4. First President to preside over a cut to the credit-rating of the United States.

5. First President to violate the War Powers Act.

6. First President to be held in contempt of court for illegally obstructing oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico.

7. First President to require all Americans to purchase a product from a third party.

8. First President to spend a trillion dollars on "shovel-ready" jobs when there was no such thing as "shovel-ready" jobs.

9. First President to abrogate bankruptcy law to turn over control of companies to his union supporters.

10. First President to by-pass Congress and implement the Dream Act through executive fiat.

11. First President to order a secret amnesty program that stopped the deportation of illegal immigrants across the U.S., including those with criminal convictions.

12. First President to demand a company hand-over $20 billion to one of his political appointees.

13. First President to tell a CEO of a major corporation (Chrysler) to resign.

14. First President to terminate America’s ability to put a man in space.

15. First President to cancel the National Day of Prayer and to say that America is no longer a Christian nation.

16. First President to have a law signed by an auto-pen without being present.

17. First President to arbitrarily declare an existing law unconstitutional and refuse to enforce it.

18. First President to threaten insurance companies if they publicly spoke out on the reasons for their rate increases.

19. First President to tell a major manufacturing company in which state it is allowed to locate a factory.

20. First President to file lawsuits against the states he swore an oath to protect (AZ, WI, OH, IN).

21. First President to withdraw an existing coal permit that had been properly issued years ago.

22. First President to actively try to bankrupt an American industry (coal).

23. First President to fire an inspector general of AmeriCorps for catching one of his friends in a corruption case.

24. First President to appoint 45 czars to replace elected officials in his office.

25. First President to surround himself with radical left wing anarchists.

26. First President to golf more than 150 separate times in his five years in office.

27. First President to hide his birth, medical, educational and travel records.

28. First President to win a Nobel Peace Prize for doing NOTHING to earn it.

29. First President to go on multiple "global apology tours" and concurrent "insult our friends" tours.

30. First President to go on over 17 lavish vacations, in addition to date nights and Wednesday evening White House parties for his friends paid for by the taxpayers.

31. First President to have personal servants (taxpayer funded) for his wife.

32. First President to keep a dog trainer on retainer for $102,000 a year at taxpayer expense.

33. First President to fly in a personal trainer from Chicago at least once a week at taxpayer expense.

34. First President to repeat the Quran and tell us the early morning call of the Azan (Islamic call to worship) is the most beautiful sound on earth.

35. First President to side with a foreign nation over one of the American 50 states (Mexico vs Arizona).

36. First President to tell the military men and women that they should pay for their own private insurance because they "volunteered to go to war and knew the consequences."

37. Then he was the First President to tell the members of the military that THEY were UNPATRIOTIC for balking at the last suggestion.

[aliveandfullofjoy]

Yet again, it's time to indulge in one of my favorite new year traditions: my ten favorite new-to-me films of 2023!

This is a wild, wild group of movies, but all of them got under my skin in one way or another and made this year that much brighter. If you like, consider this a strong endorsement for each of them.

Same rules as always: no movies from this past year (2023) or the year prior (2022). Every other year is fair game.

01. Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (dir. Chantal Akerman, 1975; Belgium/France; 202 mins.)

"I often cry when I think of you, Jeanne."

Sight & Sound's newly crowned Greatest Fim of All-Time was one of my first viewing experiences of 2023, and it loomed like a cloud over the rest of my moviegoing year. It was a bit of an ideal viewing experience - my favorite local independent theater had a showing, and the sizable audience was utterly enthralled by it. The massive Jeanne Dielman is a masterpiece in observation and behavior, and its power reveals itself through the way Akerman creates and unravels Jeanne's routine. She turns the lights off in every room she leaves. She replaces the lid of the money jar every single time. She watches her neighbor's baby for a little while in the afternoon. She looks presentable and pristine at all times, including after her sex work. When parts of these routines start shifting - the lid being left off the jar, the lights being left on for a bit too long, tousled hair - it plays like a jump scare. 

I was shocked at how quickly this flew by. By the time the first day ended, I glanced at the time out of curiosity and was surprised to see it had already been an hour. Jeanne Dielman is a film that is frequently called "boring," which is both fair and entirely the point. It's still utterly mesmerizing within that boredom. This is thanks in large part to Delphine Seyrig's performance. With her hypernaturalistic stillness, Seyrig reaches rare levels of unaffected authenticity. Jeanne doesn't really feel like a character at all -- even with as little as we truly know about her, she feels like a human being.

Essential viewing. Long live the queen.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel and Max.

02. The Ascent (dir. Larisa Shepitko, 1977; Soviet Union; 111 mins.)

"Thanks for not leaving me. With company, it's... Okay, let's move on."

My final film in my 52 Films by Women challenge from a few years ago (shut up), Larisa Shepitko's The Ascent must be one of the greatest war movies ever made. Admittedly, it's not a genre I'm often drawn to, but Shepitko instills this film with an emotional power that becomes almost too much to bear.

Every act of cruelty, every gun fired, every open wound, is accompanied by a visceral pain. The way Shepitko uses the natural world as a stage for this story is astonishing - the vast snowy expanse of an unforgiving Russian winter, the rows of trees. Each of her actors manages to convey so much with their faces, too, especially the devastatingly good Lyudmila Polyakova, but the heart of the film is in the work of the two leads. Boris Plotnikov and Vladimir Gostyukhin work beautifully as a pair and as individuals. Shepitko masterfully traces the arc of their relationship against the backdrop of the war, and the end result is absolutely shattering.

The Ascent was, tragically, Shepitko's final film before she died in a car accident. It was my introduction to her as a filmmaker. I hope I can catch up with some of her earlier work, but The Ascent on its own is proof that she was a generational talent.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

03. The Big Snit (dir. Richard Condie, 1985; Canada; 10 mins.)

"And stop sawing the table!!!"

Oh my God, I loved this so much? Other than being vaguely aware of the title and its good reputation, I had no expectations going into The Big Snit, but everything about it worked for me. The utterly bizarre sense of humor, the voice acting (especially the CAT?!), and Condie's deft combination of a marriage gone stale against the backdrop of nuclear anxiety make for a surprisingly moving ending. I think it might be a masterpiece of the form. And like Jeanne Dielman, it feels profoundly influential - it's easy to see the aftershocks of The Big Snit in a decade's worth of shows on Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network.

Currently streaming on the National Film Board of Canada's website.

04. Vagabond (dir. Agnès Varda, 1985; France; 105 mins.)

"I know little about her myself, but it seems to me she came from the sea."

There really was nobody like Agnès Varda. Vagabond, or Sans toit ni loi, if you prefer its evocative original title, is pretty handily the most emotionally devastating film of hers that I've seen. As Varda shows us Mona's journey through the French countryside, it's hard not to see shades of Wendy and Lucy or even Nomadland. Like the protagonists of those films, Mona struggles to keep her head above water while living on the margins of society, and, like Reichardt and Zhao, Varda manages to find the joyful, the beautiful, and the life-affirming underneath the hardship. She also coaxes stunning work out of Sandrine Bonnaire, who turns in an extraordinarily unaffected and naturalistic performance.

Vagabond's secret weapon might be in its structure. Marrying traditional narrative scenes with a documentary-like direct address, Varda creates an achingly realistic atmosphere. Her work as a documentarian is well-known, and as a bridge between narrative and documentary filmmaking, Vagabond may just be the crown jewel in Varda's expansive body of work.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

05. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (dir. Steven Spielberg, 2001; USA; 146 mins.)

"And for the first time in his life, he went to that place where dreams are born."

Weepy existential sci-fi remains undefeated!

A.I. Artificial Intelligence is undeniably a huge swing. Genuinely feeling like that impossible mix between Spielberg's and Kubrick's sensibilities, A.I. achieves something of a hat trick - a fairytale steeped in existentialism. The Pinocchio comparisons are immediate and on-the-nose, but that doesn't make it any less fertile grounds for a compelling story. There's so much in this film that physically hurts the heart and the head to think about for too long - so much grief, so much cruelty - that framing it around David's immediately accessible journey toward becoming a real boy is pretty ingenious.

Of course, this film, maybe more than any of Spielberg's others, is deeply reliant on its lead performance. Haley Joel Osment is astonishing in this film, a blank slate for an entire world's love and anguish to project itself. Without him, the film would probably still be a fascinating sci-fi epic, but Osment lends the film the bulk of its emotional power. If we don't believe that David's entire reason for being comes from his need for love from his adopted mother (which, admittedly, is a pretty thin clothesline for the film's heavy plot to hang on), then we don't care. Osment makes us care. From anybody, this performance would be a triumph, but from a 12-year-old? It might be one of the miracles of acting.

Available to rent on demand.

06. Humanity and Paper Balloons (dir. Sadao Yamanaka, 1937; Japan; 86 mins.)

"How could he kill himself on such a nice day? How utterly selfish of him."

Up until watching this film, I don't think I ever paid any special attention to Sadao Yamanaka's name. Within a year of the release of Humanity and Paper Balloons, the 28-year-old Yamanaka would be dead.

His untimely death only hints at the kinds of films he could have made with more time. This, though, is surely one of the finest (and most depressing) final films I can think of. One of the great strengths of Humanity and Paper Balloons is how startlingly modern it all feels: it's a 1930s drama, yes, but Yamanaka's thoughtful, assured direction really brings the poetic and tragic script (written beautifully by Shintaro Mimura) and performances (especially Kanemon Nakamura as Shinza the hairdresser) to life. Like the best tragedies, the events of Humanity and Paper Balloons feel senselessly cruel and brutally inevitable, but unlike other tragedies, Yamanaka is careful to keep just a bit of disarming humor to prevent the film from feeling too heavy. 

It's an incredibly sad story beautifully told by a filmmaker struck down in his prime. Extremely worth a watch.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

07. Mississippi Masala (dir. Mira Nair, 1991; USA; 118 mins.)

"Home is where the heart is. And my heart is with you."

There is so much in Mississippi Masala that's wonderful. There's the beautiful young couple at the center, Sarita Choudhury (in a lovely debut performance) and Denzel Washington (a few years after his first Oscar win), who are so hot together that it feels like the TV might catch on fire. There's the supporting cast, too, including the legendary Sharmila Tagore, the great Charles S. Dutton, and the soulful Roshan Seth, whose sad, exhausted face is the heart of the film. There's the sensitive script by Sooni Taraporevala, that somehow finds an intimate romantic drama in a sprawling story that includes the Indian exodus from Uganda, an immigrant family's assimilation into the American South, and two clearly defined family dramas in vastly marginalized communities.

Perhaps most wonderful is Nair's gorgeous direction. The film has an expressive, vibrant visual palette, with so many different shades of red accompanying Mina and Demetrius' blooming romance. This is a rich, sensual film, and one of the great romantic dramas of the 90s.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

08. Lingua Franca (dir. Isabel Sandoval, 2019; Philippines/USA; 95 mins.)

"It doesn't matter where I go. They will hunt me down, and take me away."

Speaking of sensual! Sandoval, a true multi-hyphenate, is the director, writer, and lead performer in the stunning Lingua Franca.

The story, following an undocumented trans Filipina caregiver, is urgent, unabashedly political, and deeply moving. Sandoval and Eamon Farren both turn in deeply affecting performances, evocatively painting portraits of bruised souls trying desperately to find a way forward. The beauty in Sandoval's direction shows us that a way forward is within their grasp. It's the choices they need to make in striving for a better life that drive them further apart. The much-discussed sex scene is one of the most sensual and breathtaking in recent memory, but so much of the central romance is painted with such empathy and grace and beautiful visuals that it makes the unraveling feel all the more gutting. Also gutting is Lynn Cohen's quietly perfect performance. 

Lingua Franca is not Sandoval's directorial debut, but it does feel like the arrival of a major artist. She's clearly one of the most exciting filmmakers working today.

Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel.

09. The Blue Angel (dir. Josef von Sternberg, 1930; Weimar Republic; 108 mins.)

"Men swarm around me like moths 'round a flame, And if their wings are singed, surely I can't be blamed."

It's easy to see The Blue Angel as a collision between the expressionism and full-body physicality of silent cinema (embodied in Emil Jannings' performance) and the daring, tempting new-age sound cinema (embodied, of course, by the iconic Marlene Dietrich), but that almost devalues the skill of the actual storytelling and filmmaking going on here. Jannings' relationship with Dietrich - as naive and one-sided as it may sometimes be - is inevitable and pitiful. It's ridiculous and tragic to watch as he throws his entire life away for the most fleeting, meaningless romance imaginable. 

Both lead performers are superb, of course. Dietrich, iconic across all of her Sternberg collaborations, is exquisite both in her onstage burlesque performances and her more intimate scenes with Jannings. Their chemistry is really lovely, even as we know it can never last. Jannings is tremendous, a layered and honest performance that culminates in an emotional breakdown that feels almost ripped from a Universal monster movie. The animalistic noises of his anguish are utterly haunting. Brutal stuff, and pretty handily my favorite Sternberg film.

Available to rent on demand.

10. Time Piece (dir. Jim Henson, 1965; USA; 9 mins.)

"Help!"

Why yes, that is the head of a young Jim Henson on that plate!

It's so weird seeing a Henson film without puppets, but if Time Piece is anything, it's weird. It's also brilliant - the product of Henson's singular creative voice. At just nine minutes, the short is a striking, funny, strange meditation on what it means to be beholden to the relentless march of time. It also boasts impeccable sound design and music, courtesy of the late, great Don Sebesky.

Currently available on Vimeo.

Special mention: Vittorio De Seta's 1955 documentaries.

In 1955, De Seta released six(!) documentary shorts: Islands of Fire, Surfarara, Easter in Sicily, The Age of Swordfish, Sea Countrymen, and Golden Parable. Stunning as individual films, but taken as a group, they become a meditation on the violence of living off the land and the endless cycle of life and death. Acting as director, editor, and cinematographer, De Seta marries ethnography and anthropology with artistry, creating bite-sized, miraculous films that immortalize life and labor in rural Sicily. The cinematography alone is jaw-dropping. Whether the films chronicle the Stromboli volcano, ancient religious rituals, a day of work in sulfur mines, harvesting grain, or the life of a fisherman, they are immersive and fleeting. The longest of these films is 12 minutes, and they all feel like dreams. Stunning stuff.

All six of these films, and more of De Seta's work, are streaming on the Criterion Channel.

Honorable mentions (in alphabetical order): After Yang (dir. Kogonada, 2021); Akira (dir. Katsuhiro Otomo, 1988); Asako I & II (dir. Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2018); Beverly Hills Cop (dir. Martin Brest, 1984); The Boy Friend (dir. Ken Russell, 1971); Carnal Knowledge (dir. Mike Nichols, 1971); Dogfight (dir. Nancy Savoca, 1991); Game Night (dir. John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein, 2018); Girlhood (dir. Céline Sciamma, 2014); The Great Piggy Bank Robbery (dir. Robert Clampett, 1946); Heat (dir. Michael Mann, 1995); Italianamerican (dir. Martin Scorsese, 1974); Kajillionaire (dir. Miranda July, 2020); Linda Linda Linda (dir. Nobuhiro Yamashita, 2005); Mean Streets (dir. Martin Scorsese, 1973); Night of the Living Dead (dir. George A. Romero, 1968); Pink Flamingos (dir. John Waters, 1972) Saving Face (dir. Alice Wu, 2004); Shake! Otis at Monterey (dir. D. A. Pennebaker, Chris Hegedus, and David Dawkins, 1987); Shiva Baby (dir. Emma Seligman, 2020); Three Thousand (dir. asinnajaq, 2017); Videodrome (dir. David Cronenberg, 1983); When the Day Breaks (Amanda Forbis and Wendy Tilby, 1999); While You Were Sleeping (dir. Jon Turteltaub, 1995); Windy Day (dir. John Hubley and Faith Hubley, 1968); Wings of Desire (dir. Wim Wenders, 1987); Your Face (dir. Bill Plympton, 1987)

And finally, some miscellaneous viewing stats:

First movie watched in 2023: Akira (dir. Katsuhiro Otomo, 1988)

Final movie watched in 2023: The Devil Wears Prada (dir. David Frankel, 2006)

Least favorite movie: Blonde (dir. Andrew Dominik, 2022)

Oldest movie: The Impossible Voyage (dir. Georges Méliès, 1904)

Longest movie: The Ten Commandments (dir. Cecil B. DeMille, 1956 - 220 mins.)

Shortest movie: Premonitions Following an Evil Deed (dir. David Lynch, 1995 - 1 min.)

Month with the most viewings: January (35)

Month with the fewest viewings: May (5)

First movie from 2023 seen: Rye Lane (dir. Raine Allen-Miller, 2023)

Total movies: 231

Movies! They're good. Sometimes. Happy new year, friends!

[noxexistant]

more newsies uk notes!! 25/05/23 matinee, featuring george crawford as jack kelly

when davey was trying and “failing” to sell papes near the beginning, an audience member offered to take one, so he snatched it back and said “no, actually, not you” like he got too nervous and panicked

george jack and kath’s chemistry is fantastic. she sincerely finds him funny, and he quickly starts noticeably liking her too. he’s particularly playful with her, and just the same noticeably very vulnerable. they’re all over each other a lot after their first kiss (which is also fantastic and believably awkward)

jack and davey’s chemistry is also fantastic. they also become very physical once they get close - davey has his arm around jack a lot.

jack “honks” crutchie’s nose while he’s trying to cheer him up during the prologue. he loves crutchie So Much and crutchie loves him. jack also definitely touches someone else’s nose but i cannot remember the context or who. just trust me.

jack and race are BROTHERS. they’re rough with each other, jack shoves him off a lot when race is trying to bargain with him or convince him of something, until they finally hug in once and for all - and also do their move where they cross their forearms together.

george’s jack feels young and full of life - kind of like corey’s. he’s bright and mischievous and definitively the newsies’ leader, which is a role he fills very easily. he’s funny on purpose, and rarely takes stuff seriously, but is less immature than, say, jeremy’s when he does. he’s not whiny. he’s also Good at fighting, and not afraid of doing so. when he says the “newsies, get ‘em!” line, he and davey immediately make eye contact - davey’s disapproving and panicking, but jack brushes him off pretty coldly and very easily, like the fight is an inevitability and jack throwing himself in the middle of it doesn’t matter at all.

when les says his “doesn’t everyone [have parents]?” line, jack does a barely-noticeable scoff, like he’s trying very hard to feel annoyed rather than anything else

everyone is VIOLENTLY protective of splasher. when the cop hits him during the fight, that’s when all hell breaks loose.

if michael sings santa fe like he’s beat to hell and half delusional, george sings santa fe like he’s actively having a panic attack

jack is amazing with les. he picks him up a lot. he crouches down to interact with him. he immediately and sincerely loves the kid.

spot and race chest bump!!! they also really look at each other when they’re crouched together during once and for all.

when spot is leaving the rally with everyone after jack betrays them, she says “i knew this was a bad idea!” one of the other girls - maybe splint? - sounds very worried as she asks something to the effect of “what are we gonna do?”

jack often reads as much more heartbroken than angry. and during the rally where he’s trying to convince everyone to disband the union, he’s so visibly wrought with guilt and conflict, wincing after every sentence like it hurts him to say, but everyone’s way too furious to notice.

matthew and george both play trauma fantastically. jack goes directly into a flight response when he lays eyes on snyder, both when he first appears and in pulitzer’s office, and it’s real - an immediate break like a startled animal, wholeheartedly afraid. matthew goes into a freeze response when he gets a little too close to snyder while he’s being arrested, his eyes go blank and afraid and his whole body tenses. he coaxes himself tensely into laughter as snyder is dragged away.