#(I’m so sorry I fucked up the credits for this poetry the first time round. I’m so sorry Sophie ily)

[sentientsky]

words from Sophie Mackintosh, “Cursed Bread”.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #good omens 2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #go2 #ineffable lovers #ineffable wives #good omens season 2 #gomens #gomens 2 #clementine von radics #good omens season 1 #little demonic miracle of my own #sophie mackintosh #(I’m so sorry I fucked up the credits for this poetry the first time round. I’m so sorry Sophie ily)

[gayenerd]

These are “outtakes” from Billie Joe’s 2010 Out Magazine interview. The link is still up, but for some reason they took out his answers about masculinity and femininity????? And those are obviously the most interesting answers! Anyway, here’s the whole thing I had saved in a doc

March 19, 2010

Billie Joe Armstrong Tells All

Photo: Kurt Iswarienko

Our April Broadway issue features Green Day's front man Billie Joe Armstrong chatting about music, politics, and the new musical, <i>American Idiot,</i> based on the band's last two albums. The writer of the piece (and former Popnography editor) Shana Naomi Krochmal filed the following exclusive extras from her interview with Armstrong that didn't make it into the piece. In them, Billie Joe touches on masculinity, his queer influences, and meeting Lady Gaga:

ON MASCULINITY:

Out: Is masculinity important to you?

Billie Joe Armstrong: I think it can come in handy, if it’s used the right way.

What’s the right way?

I think you learn a lot from Little League baseball. Like how to be a good team player, what do you do in situations when you’re at bat and it’s just you and another person. When you lose, how do you deal with losing? When you win, are you a good winner? And a graceful winner? How do you contribute to a team situation selflessly? I think there’s a lot of leadership skills in that. I don’t know if that’s masculinity or just good leadership or just life lessons. I just used Little League baseball because it’s male dominated.

Do your kids play?

They did. My oldest is done now, and my youngest one does. It was a real good bonding experience. I think masculinity is a lot more feminine than people give it credit for. Or it can be. Jim Morrison seemed very masculine to me, but also completely feminine at the same time. That balance in between -- and it’s not those morons on the bus in Borat. That’s not masculinity, that’s insecurity at its worse. Masculinity is something that women can have.

What is feminine about you?

I’m not sure. Let me think. It’s all about being a well rounded a person. I think being a singer is very feminine. Being a singer is a very feminine thing -- performing is definitely. Women have a lot more courage I think than men do, in a lot of ways -- if you think about what Madonna does or Lady Gaga or Beyonce. Women have a much easier time of reinventing themselves than I think men do. Hmm, I think -- a little bit of eyeliner. [Laughs] But I think there’s a big difference between vanity and femininity. I think that feminine side has served me a lot more than my masculine side has in a lot of ways.

ON PERFORMING AT THE GRAMMYS:

That was such a great night. There’s a whole thing where you’re worried about the awards part of it, and it can make you kind of irritable, kind of stressed out. But the great thing is that we had a chance to play with the cast, which has never really been done before.

ON THE MOST EMOTIONAL PARTS OF THE SHOW:

When Rebecca [Naomi Jones] sings “Letterbomb,” that really blows me away. The scene where Tunny’s on the gurneys and they’re singing “Before the Lobotomy.” And “Last Night on Earth” is an amazing scene with the couple doing this heroin dance. Tony [Vincent] is singing the song -- the first verse while they’re slamming smack -- and then the next verse is Mary coming out with a baby that she’s had with a guy who turns out to be a loser father. I get chills thinking about it right now. The juxtaposition between the two scenes is like -- wow.

ON WRITING AN ORIGINAL MUSICAL:

I’d definitely be interested in it. I think we’re in a really rare situation where this is gaining momentum. I don’t want to screw it up by working on something else. I’d love to do something with Michael [Mayer]. I’ve always wanted to see what it would be like to score a film -- but this, this is even more special, I think.

ON KNOWING TOO MUCH:

When you start getting into politics, what I’ve realized is that if it seems to be black and white, it’s shooting off into so many different directions. You can’t really keep up with what’s happening in the House of Representatives. Things like Hurricane Katrina, Haiti, troops in Afghanistan, financial crisis -- even Tiger Woods. It seems to be one thing after the next.

ON HIS QUEER INFLUENCES:

My uncle. There were different punk singers, from a guy named Cretin Chaos in Social Unrest to guys like Morrissey. And also guys that would genderbend a little, like Bowie, or Mike Ness from Social Distortion wearing makeup. I’ve always liked music that was non-gender specific, like the Replacements song called “Androgynous.” It was just always those little things or people that were willing to make you think, whoa, that’s not what I’m hearing on the radio these days.

ON MEETING LADY GAGA AT THE MTV VIDEO MUSIC AWARDS:

She had this outfit on -- she had so much shit on her when she walked by! She couldn’t move her arm because she was going on to do her performance, and it was like shaking hands with someone in a cast. She had this handler that was like, “Don’t touch the costume! Don’t touch the costume!” She said something about how she loved Dookie so much she used to lick the pages. I thought it was really cool. She’s influencing a lot of young people, and she’s doing it in a way that’s provocative. And a lot of people don’t realize that she’s an artist, and she’s been one for a really long time. She’s taking something that Bowie or Madonna did and taking it a step further.

ON WHAT IT MEANS TO BE “PUNK ROCK”:

That’s like a 10 part answer. I think of it as something that you need to have of your own. For me it’s about community. I think it’s kind of spiritual in its own way, because people fight over it so much and the meaning of it. It’s a sense of self-discovery. But also a new set of ideas and a new poetry, a new music that you discover that you notice that no one else is really into, or goes against what other people are normally into. It’s like you’re free to be an individual and taking on new ideas and challenging old ideas. I think it has a lot to do with burning down the establishment to create something new. But at the same time, you find relationships within that too. It’s something that’s supposed to empower you. It’s about starting something new. Part of the problem with a lot of punk rock is that people believe that it’s supposed to be one thing. Everything for me starts off with punk rock when I’m writing songs -- it’s almost like I’m stripped down to the bare bones of music again. It’s kind of in my DNA in this point.

ON HIS WIFE, ADRIENNE:

She’s great. She’s beautiful. Without her, I don’t know what I’d do. She empowers me to challenge myself in a lot of ways. She inspired the song “American Idiot” by playing me this Midnight Oil song that she really loved. She runs a store called Atomic Garden, all about sustainable living. She’s really active in NRDC, politically. Sometimes I think she’s a hell of a lot more interesting and a cooler person than I am.

ON HIS “MISERABLE” HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE:

Academically you have to completely re-figure out how to prioritize your life. And suddenly you feel like the whole fucking world is against you because they’re prioritizing for you. And it’s forced on you. And if you don’t get it at that age, if you don’t catch it -- that’s what happened to me, I didn’t prioritize anything. I just got to a breaking point where it was like, by my later high school years, “You’re all full of shit anyway. Everyone’s full of shit. I know what I’m doing, and fuck school, and fuck schoolwork, and I’m not going to go to fucking college anyway, and I’m gonna play in a rock band, and you’re all gonna be sorry.” You get vengeful -- it’s a natural instinct, all those hormones going and shit.

ON BEING HAPPIER AT AGE 38:

I kind of feel like things are getting better. It goes in stages. I loved my early twenties. I hated my late twenties. I was a drunk. I was trying to figure out how to be a father, a husband, but I still wanted to live my life like a crazy punk rock rock star. You start noticing things about yourself. You have to change your health habits. But you don’t want to change. In your twenties, change is hitting you over the head whether you like it or not. Right when I got to about 30 I was like, thank God that’s over. But it gets complicated again.

#Billie: 'Masculinity is something that women can have' #Me: 'OmG hE's TaLkInG aBoUt Me' #article #interview #articles #billie joe armstrong

[gyllenhaalstories]

SOUTHPAW, PART 1: HEADCANONS.

notes: dear anon: thank you for making me appreciate jake the rapper! also i know nothing about rap, so i’m sorry if this is pure trash! i never finished watching southpaw because it was too dark for me, but i took some very loose inspiration from it. warnings: mentions of dark past, mentions of sexual content... this got really long (2k words). gifs credits: alphalewolf. extras: if you want more informations about rapper!jake, please scroll through my blog. i have edited some older posts with the tag: topic: rapper!jake, so check it out if you’re interested. i have taken some ideas and put them in this list. (at the end of the list i provided some goodies!)

PART TWO WILL BE UPLOADED SOON, KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT!

attention, attention! please note i know absolutely nothing about rap. i very rarely enjoy listening to rap music, it’s simply not for me. this might be inaccurate and off compared to the actual world of hip hop and other similar genres. i apologize for my lack of knowledge! this is an au in which jake is not an actor or a producer or anything of the sort. his fame, he built it with his music. you must keep that in mind while reading these headcanons or else it will get confusing. also, i’ve taken some loose inspiration from jake’s actual work, but that’s just for the sake of backstory. are you ready to dive in this twisted fantasy?

Jake Gyllenhaal. Known as Hall. He exploded the charts after being picked up by one of the biggest record companies for his first album: Hall of Fame. He was a rookie, yet he was older than most of the rappers you can think of today. He worked his way up undercover. He started participating in poetry and slam nights at local cafés. He became a songwriter, through connections. He sold some songs that are absolute classics today, but he does not care. He did not feel like they fit him anyway.

Growing up, Jake had it rough. There was a lot of fighting at home. His older sister was the perfect angel and him? The absolute disaster child. It was not like he ran after danger and trouble, he seemed to always be at the wrong place in the wrong time, he hung out with the wrong crowd. He managed to avoid juvie on some miracle. What was the miracle, you might ask? He was caught robbing some local bank with his “friends” and the cops, at first, did not believe he was innocent. While his friends were screaming and threatening the innocent clients of the bank, Jake actually tried to help them out of the building safely. The cops arrived at the same moment and thought he was keeping the strangers hostage. He was arrested on the spot. The other guys played the victims, blamed it all on Jake but it was only when Jake wrote the whole story, from the beginning where his friends manipulated him and made of him their puppet to when he felt this adrenaline rush telling him he needed to save the strangers that night. His writing was too sincere, too raw to be a web of lies. The police released him, but they kept an eye on him.

His escape were writing and music. He impressed all of his teachers at school. Talented, gifted, magical. That was how they described Jake at every parent and teacher meeting. Writing dumb sentences that made very little sense and playing with a guitar after school, that did not make his parents very proud compared to his sister who was on top of all of her classes and working hard for a future of wealth and success.

Music was his entire life. He would come home from school and blast music until he was called out for dinner. Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Heart, Pink Floyd, Metallica, name it. He liked it loud. He liked it weird. He liked it with a deeper message, with double meaning.

He worked all types of jobs, some legal and some not so much. He was saving money for college. He applied. He got in. He started his classes. He had big dreams, too, he had ambitions. Maybe he could his talent to good use? He wanted to study philosophy, literature, music, creative writing... Anything that required thought and depth. He made friends, there. He befriended the edgy punk guy, he had tattoos everywhere, he listened to the same bands, he was quiet but his essays spoke volumes.

Jake was disappointed, his illusions were broken. He hated the format of his classes, the feeling like his opinion and his inspiration did not matter, it was always about meeting some stupid requirements to please a rich professor who did not care about passion, about talent, about originality. Jake dropped out, soon followed by his friend. His friend was hired at a tattoo parlor and Jake hung out there all the time. He would stay up until 5 am, 6, 7, all night and all day long. He loved the clients there. He would write and read his writing out loud to the clients when they were tortured by the needle shooting the ink in their skin. Talented and gifted, they all the same thing.

He started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He wrote, not just stories and opinion pieces. He started writing songs, melody and lyrics. He started playing them, he started writing his own poetry too. He was introduced to freestyle battles. And as he fought against other talented thinkers, he noticed he spoke with a tempo, with a rhythm. He was rapping and he did not even realize it.

His career sky rocketed from the moment a music producer attended one of the rap battles. He was famous, he got quite the thick wallet and the connections. Jake was introduced to legends of hip hop. They all influenced him as his career grew to become something overwhelming and terrifying, yet thrilling and addictive.

Hall had a style of his own, though. It was romantic, yet absolutely disgusting and dark. It was aggressive, yet vulnerable and philosophical. He spoke of his trauma, of his hatred, of his envy, of his fears... He used his songs as an escape. He was becoming his own escape.

And his own prison. His family did not care about him, he was a shame, even. Aside from his old college friend, he never built strong friendships. They were all after him for fame and cash. He slept around, guys and gals, threesomes, foursomes... He did not care, anything for some genuine connection, even if it lasted for a very lazy and messy fifteen minutes in the trashy bathroom of a concert hall. Rumour had it he was a great lover, but he was so bad at loving.

Now it gets interesting...

Hall rapped alongsides Eminem, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott... The biggest pop stars were fighting just to get him to rap a line in their songs. Rihanna wishes he was the one singing Love the way you lie, does that give you an idea? He appeared on duets. He wrote more solo albums, sold them instantly. He never left the top of the billboard in weeks, months, if not years. It never really got to his head. He was still that sensitive boy writing about knights and princesses in his bedroom with walls covered by band posters. Fans did not care about this side of him, they loved him for his lyrics about snorting coke, drinking his pain away and fucking whoever wore the tiniest skirt around.

His latest album, Southpaw, was an even bigger hit. Pure filth. Pure gold. Imagine 13 tracks, Cardi’s and Megan’s WAP but reversed. He does not rap about how good he fucks people. He raps about how good they feel. That’s some real depth here, no pun intended.

You met him at one of his concerts. Your friend won VIP passes, so you were standing in the front and got to take a picture with him. You did not understand the hype around taking a photo with this guy, he just stood there and looked absolutely emotionless.

You hated rap, or perhaps you loved it. You did not care much for Jake, that was for sure. You thought he was just another lame rapper who thought he was the real deal because his lyrics were so explicit, even the clean versions made angels cry. The truth was, you did not know much a bout him. You found him too commercial, like he was scared of becoming irrelevant.

You saw right through him already.

But him? He already cared too much about you. You caught his attention as he rapped his songs. He could not take his eyes off you. You weighted heavy on his mind, caused him to stutter and forget lyricvs. Fans laughed, they said he was probably too drunk or too high too focus. Drunk in love, that’s what it was.

There was something about you. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt you wore. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on your face. Maybe it was your plump lips he wanted to kiss. Maybe it was the sight of you laughing with your friend that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact you treated him like a normal person even if you had not spoken to him first.

So, you met backstage.

Your friend was beaming from ear to ear, showering Jake in compliments.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jake asked you.

“For someone who shows no emotion, sound dead inside and look like they wish they were doing anything but making dozens of thousands of dollars by singing a couple of semi mediocre tracks, yeah, it was not that horrible.”

He was up for a challenge.

You two exchanged insults like it was a boxing match. Each round was getting more and more intense. It was no longer insults, it was straight up flirting. You noticed when your bodies were so close you could smell the scent of watermelon chewing gum that escaped from his warm breath. You could hear the way his raced even faster than yours.

You were snapped out of this fantasy by his bodyguard, indicating other fans waited for him.

He remembered the name your friend called out, saying he needed to bring you home before something bad happened.

It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

He hung out around that concert hall for the next couple of days. At the bar nearby, at Starbucks, at McDonald’s, anything for the sake of seeing your face again.

And he did.

You were walking out of the record store with a vinyl of Heart squeezed under your arm. You looked so happy. You had paint stains all over your clothes. You were erasing the memories of a terrible relationship by decorating your tiny apartment, and you needed to set the right ambiance. You needed guidance, you found it in the strong minds of the ladies behind Heart, in Joan Jett, in Stevie Nicks. You found your silver lining in music.

Jake ran behind you, he pretended he was out jogging and he mysteriously bumped into you. He grabbed your vinyl before it could fall on the ground.

“Nice pick.”

“We finally agree on something.”

Another round of flirty insults...

... That ended in the two of you fucking like animals on the floor of your apartment.

And fucking on the couch the next day.

On the kitchen counter the morning after.

And finally, on the bed. That was a really special one. Jake was the first person to be on your bed since the departure of your ex. He could feel that you were not in the mood for a rough battle for dominance.

That night, he made love to you.

For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, he expressed his love directly to somebody. “Princess, baby girl, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing”, he showered you in compliments, and praises. The slow movement of his hips, the intense passion in his eyes and love in his heart spoke louder than the music you were playing in the background to set the mood.

You were not just another trophee to hang on the wall. You were special.

He was special too.

He bought you every record that reminded him of you. He bought you collector items of your favourite bands. From the silliest decoration to a new car to replace your crappy one, passing by tickets to exclusive and sold-out shows, Jake had never felt more famous in his life than when he was with you.

His fans noticed the change in his songs, in his lyrics. They were just as explicit, just as rotten and just as corrupted. However, they came from a place of light and love, not of darkness and rage.

He sang about how good your felt when you climaxed around him. How drenched he was whenever he made you squirt. How he loved to taste himnself on your lips. How he was full of love and of lust for you. How he would quit everything if it meant he would live a normal life, for once, and with you.

You inspired so many songs that became massive world-wide hits.

You travelled the world with him on tour. You helped him design his new merch and you wore his t-shirts with pride. You attended concerts in your freetime. You loved staying up all night, painting and drawing while he was writing about this mirage of a goddess, blessing his existence with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

He was addicted to you.

He was crazy for you.

And he went crazy on you.

for research purposes and not because i wasted my time hearing eminem talk about stuff i don’t understand so i could stare at jake’s thighs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP_cKP4OjsA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whV5oQDvVWE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGqC9URTJIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5imXD1LPnwo

and finally, for good measure :

@gyll-yee-haw​ ily

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #topic: rapper!jake #series: southpaw

[drarry-with-a-side-of-harry]

SO Diamond of the Day HMMMMM this episode was not was i was expecting and IT WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN I’D IMAGINED. HEARTBREAKINGLY DEVASTATING? YES OF COURSE. BUT SO SO BEAUTIFUL. i didn’t think it was going to be almost entirely Merlin and Arthur intimately talking and holding each other and everything coming out. and i’m so so happy that that’s what it was 🥺🥺🥺 it was fully just a Merthur episode. the episode we all deserved despite the tragedy because it did fit well even if it’s heartbreaking okay? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Merlin: “you’re bleeding”

Arthur: “that’s alright i thought i was dying

ARTHUR BABE COULD YOU MAYBE NOT FOR LIKE TWO (2) SECONDS???

Merlin’s just rambling about everything he’s done and should’ve done and Arthur’s just smiling at him dopily i cannot deal with this 🥺😭 and Merlin just breaks down crying as he tells him that he’s the sorcerer i- 🥺🥺🥺

the way they’re holding each other

Merlin said ‘i use my magic for you, Arthur. only for you’ 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 let’s be honest, Diamond of the Day Part 2 is all just 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 oh, and some more 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Arthur just fucking breaks when Merlin first does magic in front of him knowingly obviously lmao he’s just so scared and feels betrayed i-

when Gaius comes back with the herbs and Merlin’s angry at his dad Gaius for not getting the best things he could because he’s just so scared about Arthur this boy i swear- 🥺🥺 but Gaius just knows and tells him to go water the horses lmao come on Gaius you KING

it’s so lovely when Gaius is talking to Arthur about Merlin and trying to talk him round and then we get the gem: ‘there are those who say he’s the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth’... ‘Merlin?’ lmaoooo Arthur stop being a little shit for like TWO (2) SECONDS and listen to Gaius

Merlin is just distraught ‘i can’t let you die’ OH BABY. the ANGST i simply could not deal

then they come across the two saxons ‘you have to help us, we were ambushed’ ‘by who?’ ‘tHEse tWo mEN’ nice one Merlin glad to see your ability to lie has not improved since.. the poetry incident lmaooooooo i can’t with him then Merlin fucking magics them into oblivion and all Arthur can say is ‘you’ve lied to me all this time’ 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and the look he gives Merlin just broke me. THE ANGST

then in the forest at night Arthur half heartedly spits ‘why don’t you use magic’ when Merlin’s tryna light the fire oh baby Arthur’s so mad i can’t with this boy. you little arsehole Arthur Pendragon boy’s been saving your life since day one pipe down ANYWAY Merlin gives him a proper answer and says it’s just out of habit and he turns to Arthur and this boy just NODS AT MERLIN AND THE GROUND, WITH A SLIGHT HINT OF A SMILE AND RAISED EYEBROWS AS IF TO SAY ‘GO AHEAD, DO IT’ THE CHEEK OF THIS MAN he just wants to watch him do it. anyway Merlin does and says ‘it feels strange’ and all Arthur can say is ‘yeah’ yeh alright well done mate do better next time i know you’re dying babe but please

Arthur still has the same expression on his face, ever so slight smile, and says ‘i thought i knew you’ and Merlin’s looking at him like ‘wtf man what do you want me to say to that exactly??’ but actually says ‘i’m still the same person’ 🥺🥺🥺 ‘i trusted you’ 🥺🥺🥺🥺 ‘i’m sorry’ 🥺🥺 ‘i’m sorry, too’ 🥺🥺🥺 I’M SORRY TOO. ARTHUR SAID I’M SORRY TOO

OH I’M SORRY BUT I CAN’T ANYMORE THIS IS TOO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

then a crazy intimate moment where Merlin takes off Arthur’s boots and Arthur’s so confused as to why he’s still acting like this UHHHHH KING that’s all Merlin’s ever done he just wants to be yours take that as you will

then Merlin’s feeding him and Arthur just comes out with it. he doesn’t understand why he would act the servant when he’s a sorcerer 🥺🥺 ‘it’s my destiny’ ARTHUR IT’S HIS DESTINY I- ‘as it has been since the day we met’ and Arthur cracks a slight smile at that 🥺🥺🥺 ‘i tried to take your head off with a mace’ ‘and i stopped you, using magic’ AND LET ME TELL YOU THESE BOYS REMINISCING JUST FINISHED ME OFF ONCE AND FOR ALL WHY IS THIS SO SOFT 🥺🥺🥺 ‘you cheated’ ‘you were going to kill me’ ‘i should have’ ‘i’m glad you didn’t’ and Arthur scoffs i’ve asked you before, can you just pipe down for a sec? thanks. and Merlin’s just saying lovely things to him and Arthur’s just looking at him so intently and sweetly ‘there’ll never be another like you, Arthur’ and then Arthur’s pondering and Merlin looks away like he’s spoken out of turn and idk man getting a bit of a GAY VIBE like he’s admitting his love and shouldn’t have. idk seems kinda gay to me. idk though

the way he holds his head while he’s feeding them yes i know this is just what you do but 🥺🥺🥺🥺

at this point every time Arthur collapses i was crying because i kept thinking he was gonna die at any minute i- i’m a mess

Arthur says ‘why did you never tell me?’ king. KING. how could he??? 🥺🥺 and Arthur just looks so so sad

the way Merlin’s holding him

Merlin tells him he didn’t want to put Arthur in that position of deciding whether or not to chop his head off and Arthur replies with a smile ‘that’s what worried you?’ 🥺🥺🥺 YES KING HE’S ALWAYS THINKING ABOUT YOU. Merlin tells Arthur that he was born to serve him and that he’s proud of that and Arthur’s just looking at him like Merlin’s just given him the world 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

‘so you’re not an idiot that was another lie’ lmaooooo king stop ‘no, it’s just another part of my charm’ and Merlin turns back to him and gives him the warmest little smile 🥺🥺 and Arthur has a little smile to himself 🥺🥺🥺

then Merlin’s doing all his little magic tricks to distract the saxons and Arthur’s watching so intently. so quizzically. and says with his trademark sarcasm ‘you’ve done this before’ and Merlin just looks at him and Arthur almost doesn’t know what to say until ‘all these years Merlin, you never once sought any credit’ YEAH WE KNOW KING THAT’S WHY YOU LOVE HIM

i just love how this episode is just the progression Arthur slowly coming to terms with who Merlin is and accepting him for it which is not what i thought it was going to be but boy oh boy am i glad that it is 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Arthur’s starts ‘whatever happens...’ and is about to say something sad and Merlin just- ‘shh don’t talk’ ‘i’m the king Merlin, you can’t tell me what to do’ ‘i always have, i’m not going to change now’ ‘i don’t want you to change. i want you to always.. be you’ 🥺🥺 this episode really gave us everything and then took it all away huh? and then they’re joking and Arthur’s delirious and passes out and Merlin’s got tears in his eyes, just holding his neck to make sure he’s ok 🥺🥺🥺

and then it’s time for Morgana to die and Arthur has to watch Merlin plunge this blade into his sister because that’s who she is even if she’s gone a bit bad lmao and Merlin says ‘goodbye Morgana’ and Arthur’s just staring like he feels nothing at this point 🥺🥺🥺🥺 but then he says ‘brought peace at last’ and i just- 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i’m broken 🥺🥺

and then Arthur collapses. and they joke about Merlin’s magic not being able to save him🥺 and Merlin’s just holding him. 🥺 because that’s what Arthur asks him to do 🥺 please. and Arthur says ‘there’s something i want to say’ and i was just sobbing uncontrollably at this point. and Merlin thinks he’s going to say goodbye. but that’s not it. of course that not it Merlin. 🥺🥺 ‘everything you’ve done... i know now. for me, for camelot... for the kingdom you help me build’ AND IT’S COMING. Merlin tells him he would’ve done it without him and i think we all know that’s not true and Arthur says ‘maybe’ with a smile at him 🥺🥺🥺 AND IT’S STILL COMING ‘i want to say something i’ve never said to you before’ and I FUCKING KNEW what it was going to be ‘thank you’ and i just broke and so did Merlin and Arthur’s just smiling at him and Merlin’s shouting his name but he’s gone and 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 he whispers ‘stay with me’ but it’s too late 🥺🥺🥺 and Merlin screams for the Great Dragon.

he tells him there’s nothing that can be done. and Merlin thinks he’s failed but dragon boy tells him that’s not the case 🥺🥺 because he’s built everything that he was supposed to with Arthur 🥺🥺🥺 ‘i can’t lose him, he’s my friend’ oh

‘Arthur is not just a king... he is the once and future king’ i-

and then Arthur’s in the boat and Merlin touches his forehead and he just breaks down crying and if i remember correctly Merlin, Arthur told you no man is worth your tears 🥺🥺🥺 and he just keeps touching him because it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. and he sets the boat off and he breaks down crying again. baby, me too

now, i don’t know if he was meant to light it up and couldn’t bring himself to??? but that’s what i’m thinking currently

OKAY I AM DONE. yes this was a post to help with the trauma. yes it’s long. i am currently dead. i’ll keep you updated lmao

#it was so beautiful #devastating but beautiful #i’m still not over the episode title #diamond of the day #so fucking beautiful #i am BROKEN #fucking hell #hopefully this’ll get better when i read some fanfic #lmaoooo #the cure for everything #yes i did just scrub through the episode to write this #it was another journey #it’s now 4:23am #i need to get some sleep #fuck #FUCK #this has been a ride #and it WILL continue #:’) #with a side of rambling #merlin ramblings #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #bbc merthur #long post

[amphtaminedreams]

The Eras of Lana Del Rey: Lookbook no.9

Hi to anyone reading,

Hope you’re okay! AND that you didn’t end up here because you searched the Lana Del Rey tag so you could see people ranting about her-you’re about to be very disappointed. Sorry. This is not about to be some Question for the Culture discourse because the world is bleak enough right now and the last thing we all need is to be reminded of that saga. 

Being a Lana Del Rey fan is easy, they said. She’s not a controversial artist, they said. And yet 2020 had to do what it does best and fuck everything up. 

Whether people like her or not, it’s made me so angry reading all the abuse she’s been getting about her appearance for the last couple of weeks, because I really thought that if we could agree on anything it was that attacking individuals for the way they look because you dislike something they’ve done (with the exception of shit like racist tattoos and blackfishing) is, you know, awful and judgemental as fuck? Like you do realise when you treat the word fat as a pejorative that the fat people you don’t have a problem with understood that you meant it as an insult too? I think what all those people tweeting about Lana’s weight, and that includes some of her fans, are forgetting is that she was in her early 20s when she was thrust into the limelight. As much as there’s this conspiracy that her dad bought her a career in the music industry, she’d made the decision to go it alone and had lived in a trailer park as a struggling musician for years. On top of that, we have the unreleased tracks with lyrics seemingly referencing an eating disorder in her younger years. OF COURSE her body is going to look different. Why is it that we treat weight gain as an inherently bad thing without any insight into the other factors that constitute a person’s “health”? It’s fucking insane that so many feel they have the right to comment on other’s bodies in the first place and it breaks my heart that she might be reading these comments. This wasn’t intended to necessarily be a rant about how much I love this woman but all the shit I’ve read about her on the internet these past few months have pushed me to it. You'll respect your queen of alternative music or I shall stan twice as hard on your behalf. You can thank me later when you come to your senses xoxo

I’d love to say it was intentional that I finally finished this post the week Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass was released but that would imply I have my shit way more together than I actually do. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve only heard L.A Who am I to Love You so far 1). because I want to wait for the hard copy for the rest and that doesn’t turn up til September and 2). because I do not have my shit together, lol. That being said, there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to love it-one thing I have always loved about Lana’s lyrics is how well they paint a picture and this is something that poetry only more freely allows for the exploration of. That ability to create such a strong narrative voice and atmosphere is a talent that extends to her visuals and the production of her records too, and is something I really missed when it comes to the Norman Fucking Rockwell era. I’m just going to say it: a strong aesthetic is to NFR as memorable songs are to Lust for Life. Lacking. Am I allowed to say that as a fan? The collaborations don’t do it for me, okay, and as as NFR is concerned, aside from The Greatest/Fuck It I Love You video which went down the whole neon surfer girl route, it’s hard to identify a cohesive theme. It’s understandable that at this point, she would want to just focus purely on the music, and it goes without saying that NFR will stand the test of time in that regard but I don’t think we can deny that when people think of Lana in the future, it’s not gonna be a green windbreaker that comes into their heads.

^Illustration credit to Filip Kozak (https://filipkozaksart.tumblr.com/?fbclid=IwAR3vwLX2pNxoFNhTPD1ky14LllPqlLtL1GxGlD79xuHxdtzcHLw-6aNBZWo)

And here’s where this Filip Kozak illustration comes into it; after years of it sitting in my camera roll for years, it finally has a use. There’s really nothing better to illustrate how mundane life has become this year than the disproportionate level of excitement my photo-hoarding-self experienced realising it would fit perfectly into this post and is thus eligible for deletion. Up there with being able to fit a whole box of biscuits onto the shelf at work rather than having to individually take out as many as I can and then shove them on top of the existing box of biscuits one by one. Truly riveting content on this Tumblr page. Back to the point-by using this as my stimulus for the post rather than the Lana Del Rey albums as outfits tag that went round on Twitter, I can conveniently exclude NFR as an outfit inspiration category, and that saves me from having to buy a charity shop windbreaker with its price bumped up 150% by some upper middle class Depop e-girl or boy who uses the word peng as a descriptor like it’s a nervous tic. To make up for leaving out NFR, I’ve tried to branch out a bit and do the outfits not just based on the music videos or album covers but also from street style and stage looks and photoshoots from around the same period too. It was hard not to be influenced by the general “vibe” and sound of the albums either when I was planning outfits, whether it’s the grand, orchestral instrumentals of Born to Die or the 70s psychedelic rock inspired riffs of Ultraviolence and hopefully that’ll show as well! Enjoy:D

Born to Die (Release Date: 27th January 2012)

It’s been 8 years, and when you ask most people what they think of when they hear the name Lana Del Rey, they’ll probably dismiss her as the one who sings about being sad and doing coke and sleeping with older men. That’s the Born to Die impact. Say what you want but it’s one of only a handful of albums released by a female artist to have spent more than 300 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart and it really established the mythos of “Lana Del Rey” because before all this, before all the think pieces from other women claiming she’d set feminism back hundreds of years with her music, before she ousted grayscale Effy Stonem as the queen of angsty teen Tumblr (which as you can probably guess was a subsection of the internet I was very much engulfed by, lmao), she was just Lizzie Grant, a relatively normal aspiring singer songwriter in her early twenties. But as Lana Del Rey, she was someone else-some beautiful, mystical being that personified the sentiment of being born in the wrong era. Whilst every other singer’s record labels seemed to be trying desperately to thrust them into the future and keep them on top of all the musical and stylistic trends, it was refreshing to hear someone whose music and visuals captured all the most glamorous elements of the past. Part Priscilla Presley/Jackie O reincarnation (the National Anthem video really illustrated how Lana is just as much a storyteller as she is a musician), part high level mobster’s wayward wife à la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, she was the good girl by day and the bad girl by night, and I think that’s a duality we can all relate to or would like to think we’re interesting enough to relate to deep down.

Her style from around this period was EVERYTHING. She had those grungy Tumblr girl elements, the camo jacket and the oversized pieces and the leather jackets, but she also heavily drew on the styles and silhouettes of the 50s and 60s with the beehives and the new look Dior inspired cinched waist dresses. Even now in 2020, I think this period is what most people would think if they were asked to describe Lana’s style. I made sure I got the grungy pieces in there with the chunky boots and the vinyl and the oversized leather but the foundation of her looks back then were usually these daintier throwback pieces like the white silk dress and the corset and the mint fur trimmed coat (House of Sunny’s Penny Pistachio coat).

Favourite lyrics from the album? “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I'm living in” from Radio. Nobody asked but I’m gonna give it to you anyway.

Born to Die: The Paradise Edition (Release Date: 9th November 2012)

Lana’s Paradise EP contains probably my absolute favourite song of her’s, Ride, and with that, the beautiful opening monologue that will stay in my mind forever. This era was of course ushered in by Tropico, the short film that included the premiere of the songs Bel Air, Body Electric and Gods and Monsters, which established the ethereal tone of this period-it’s in the name, after all. Both the album and the videos were other-worldly and leaned heavily on religious symbolism which I’m sure pissed off many a middle-aged bible basher at the time. Most prominent in her lyrics were reflections on the freedom of the open road which corresponded with visuals of biker gangs and desert dwellers and modern interpretations of the Wild West, as was an attempt to capture the nature of the so-called “American spirit” which as Lana portrayed it shared more qualities with a kind of celestial, transient being than any kind of solid concept or identity. She played an emotionally detached stripper and a haunted saloon-style-bar singer (almost looking like a runaway bride) and Eve the “first woman” all in the same album and honestly, if that’s not iconic, I don’t know what is. We saw SO many incredible red carpet looks in this period too which built upon this idea of her as the fallen angel tempted by original sin that Tropico established; I feel like this era was all about laying bare the soul of the character she played, this broken, delicate but ultimately liberated being that was so dangerous to the idea of the strong, stable modern feminist ideal. She went about it in COMPLETELY the wrong way in a post that betrayed the ignorance of the privilege she has as a white female performer, but I think this is what she was getting at in it and Ultraviolence only went on to bolster her critics.

In response to the criticism she still receives about the choice to wear a Native American war bonnet in her Ride music video, I’d like to say that it really seems like she’s learnt from that-actions speak louder than words and so though it’s not my place to say whether this makes up for that error, the work she’s done with Native American reparations-focussed foundations since and the money she’s donated to the cause says a lot about her intentions. Again, I want to stress that it’s not my place to say! But it’s a detail that is often overlooked so I thought I’d mention it here. 

“I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

Ultraviolence (Release Date: 13th June 2014)

AH, Ultraviolence. My favourite of Lana’s albums and imo, a masterpiece. ONE skip. ONE. Sorry Guns and Roses. I got stoned in my back garden and listened to this (for research purposes ofc, heh) and ended up deciding that this is what I want to listen to when I die (also whilst stoned). It sounds dramatic but listening to this album in that state of mind is such a heavenly experience that I’d be too zen to notice myself slipping away into nothingness on the basis that if I didn’t as long as I could stay in that bubble of awe, nothingness forever wouldn’t be so scary after all. I know, I know, that sentence has big Jaden Smith’s old tweets energy. But if an album is what helps me get over an existential crisis, I beg you allow me the nonsensical ramblings about how I felt like I was ascending into the stars.

Though in terms of the lyrical content the public perception is probably correct, I think the reputation Ultraviolence has as Lana’s darkest, most gothic album (which is something I’ve in incorporated into the outfits I put together) is mistaken; instrumentally and visually it drew more on 70s psychedelic rock and the bohemian counter culture of the period than anything, and her stage looks are a clear reflection of that, and also the outfits I was most excited to channel. It seems counter-intuitive to the moody atmosphere I associate the tracklist with but it’s my go-to summer album; it’s raw (probably her most stripped back work along with NFR, lots of the songs are barely edited) and it’s gloomy but let’s be real, hot as fuck-don’t bother making a sex playlist, just put Ultraviolence on shuffle, and you’re good to go. This was the album where Lana debuted some of her most criticised lyrics and where the notion that she glamourises abuse comes from, one of the points she also seemed to be getting at in the Instagram post, but imo it’s fair to say that she sang truthfully about the initial allure of a dangerous relationship and the nature of the mindset that facilitates staying with somebody poisonous where you do feel like you’re nothing without them. Turning horrific experiences into romantic tragedies is how Lana has always made her music and yeah, out of context there are some fucked up lyrics on the album, but policing how a woman expresses her trauma and complaining that she glorifies weakness because she wrote honestly about the reality of a complicated partnership is hardly any more “feminist” than the lyrics themselves. I can only guess that the reason Lana felt the need to bring up this criticism in 2020 is because these darker themes are going to be revisited in her upcoming album and that in spite of the issues with the way she expressed herself, this time critics will be more accepting of how she chooses to address these themes. 

On a lighter note “yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me” will always be a great line. Simple but effective. If my boyfriend ever is cooler than me it’ll be doing Lana a disservice.

Honeymoon (Release Date: 18th September 2015)

Considering that a lot of other Lana fans are of the opinion that this is her best album, I find it weird that I really don’t remember all that much about this period, other than High by the Beach being released and then hearing Salvatore and Freak for the first time. I guess because she didn’t do a Honeymoon specific tour and didn’t make that many public appearances in this period? It was definitely harder for me to find visual reference points beyond the HbtB music video and the cover art, so I mostly drew on the general vibe of the album, a cinematic accompaniment to a summer in Italy or the South of France, filled with exotic instrumentals and the sense of impending romantic doom that Lana does so well. I suppose if I associate the visuals of this era with anything it’s idyllic florals and warm tones, bygone country club pool days, a rich American’s vacation in Southern Europe, long walks on the beach (and as our Lord and Saviour Jujubee once said, big dicks and fried chicken). Apparently inspired by Lana’s relationship with Francesco Carrozini, it’s a hazy story of some ultra-feminine, submissive archetype becoming unhealthily enchanted by a mysterious “foreign man” who’s ultimately not all that good for her, which as the story goes turned out to be quite prophetic. Going against the grain, it’s my least favourite of her albums after Lust for Life, but in spite of that, I will always remember how obsessed I was with the sax riffs (I think? I don’t know my instruments all that well so forgive me, lol) on Freak and I definitely understand why it’s a firm favourite for so many.

“You could be a bad motherfucker, but that don’t make you a man.” was truly a cultural reset of a line.

-on an unrelated note, OMG, I never realised how I have my mouth open in literally every fucking photo I take, somebody tell me how to pose, please and thank you-

Lust for Life (Release Date: 21 July 2017)

Lust for Life is a controversial one. On the one hand, I appreciate that this album was the victory cry of a happier, more independent, politically-aware Lana in spite of it apparently being a far more optimistic sounding album than the one she wanted to release, but on the other there were way too many collaborations for me and this meant that the album lacked a sense of cohesion and the characteristic narrative thread that usually runs throughout her tracklist. Aside from Love, Cherry, Get Free and Tomorrow Never Came, most of the songs on the album aren’t hugely memorable and it’s a crying shame that a collaboration with STEVIE FUCKING NICKS of all people left so much to be desired. Coming from two witchy icons, I expected something absolutely magical so maybe I was setting myself up for failure, but come on. We could’ve had a real anthem there.

Aesthetically speaking however, this is one of my favourite eras for Lana, which is unsurprising when you consider the tracklist contains references to both Woodstock and Coachella. I’m not gonna lie, I think seeing Coachella fashion in my early teens was my style awakening-I remember seeing Vanessa Hudgens’ outfits and being like, wow, I want to be her (oh, what a fall from grace)-so the late 60s/early 70s flower power groupie style Lana adopted in this period really spoke to me. It was all long hair and dreamy pastels, and this era included some of the most head-to-toe coordinated looks we’ve ever seen from her. Of course I couldn’t completely abandon the grungy touches that I love, that I tend to associate with the early Lana street style days and the Paradise and Ultraviolence music videos rather than with this album, but I’m never gonna pass up an opportunity to whack out a good floral two piece and putting together Lust for Life inspired looks is the perfect excuse to do that.

So, that marks the end of this post! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I have a Yesstyle lookbook and review to edit but now that I’ve finished that, I’m trying to go down more of a style inspiration focussed  route with my lookbooks rather than just putting together outfits from clothes I’ve just bought (though I might still do one every so often to bring in a new season-let’s just ignore the fact that they’re all blending into one bc climate change for now, one catastrophe at a time please universe). I find that if you have a specific idea in mind of what you want, it’s super easy to find something similar on Depop and Ebay and that way you avoid buying new things and also take old things off a person’s hands that might otherwise end up being thrown out by a charity shop and then dumped into a landfill from there. Something I’d LOVE to do before this year is out is put together a lookbook based on the most stylish TV shows of the last decade, but that probably won’t be for a while-even so, if you have any recommendations of series to watch which could fit into this category, let me know! 

To finish, I need to go a little bit off-topic so forgive me, but I truly don’t know why this even needs to be said: WEAR A FUCKING MASK. IT IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE. IT IS A BASIC HYGIENIC PRACTICE THAT HELPS SPREAD THE STOP OF A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE! RUDIMENTAL SCIENCE! NOT A CHANCE TO PROVE HOW “EDGY” YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY, STOP MAKING A FUCKING PANDEMIC ABOUT YOURSELF! NOBODY ENJOYS WEARING THEM BUT THEY HELP PROTECT OTHERS! SO UNLESS YOU HAVE A VALID MEDICAL REASON NOT TO BE WEARING ONE, DON’T BE A SELFISH PRICK! 

Sorry to sign off on a rant-y note with something that has nothing to do with Lana, lol, but all the stupidity has been grinding me gears lately and I had to let it out on behalf of all retail workers: if we can wear a mask for 9 hours at a time, YOU can tolerate the mild discomfort of wearing one for 10 minutes. I know this doesn’t apply to the majority of people but there’s always a couple of arseholes, isn’t there!?

Stay safe,

Lauren x

#ldr #lana #lana del rey #fashion #fashion blogger #style blogger #outfit inspo

[365days365movies]

February 9, 2021: Doctor Zhivago (Part 3)

INTERMISSION’S OVER! Hope you got your snacks and popcorn, because we’ve got an hour and 20 to go!

Recap (Part 3/3)

Train’s stopped, but not at its intended location. The reason is because there’s a battle taking place up ahead in Yuriatin, where the train is headed through. See, the Bolsheviks - well, actually, the Communists now, to be accurate - are waging battle against the anti-Communist White Army, and have occupied Yuriatin.

Yuri leaves the train to find out what the deal is, and he’s captured by the Communists under suspicion of being a spy. Leading them, of course, is Pasha, now going by Strelnikov. After a brief round of suspicion, Pasha admits a former admiration of Yuri’s poetry, now viewed as anti-Communist. Yuri reveals his connection to Pasha’s wife, and Pasha reveals that he has not seen her during the war, and she’s living in...Yuriatin.

JESUS PASHA WHAT THE HELL

Well, after having this friendly discussion with a GODDAMN MONSTER, Pasha lets him go back to his family, luckily for him. He gets back to the train JUST in time, and the family are left at their intended destination, as planned. It almost seems that their struggles are over, as flowers are blooming amidst the previously ubiquitous winter.

Can’t say the same for Yuriatin, as we see it on fire in the distance. However, the Gromeko’s cottage is apparently totally fine, untouched by the Red and the White Armies.

Well, mostly untouched, as it’s been sealed up by the Red Army. Stopping Alexander from breaking in, Yuri and their local friend, Petya (Jack MacGowran) figure out that the cottage of the house is still open, and the family happily settles in there.

During their time there, Tonya becomes pregnant once again. Strelnikov leaves for Manchuria, which seems like good news. But that’s tempered with the very, VERY bad. Czar Nicholas and the Romanovs, exiled for years, have been shot. Sorry, Anastasia.

Spring to summer, summer to winter, and winter once again to spring, and the family is doing well, in relative poverty as they are. By the way, before I forget to mention this, why does Omar Sharif (he plays Yuri) ALWAYS look like he’s been crying? Dude has perpetually red puffy eyes, I swear. Like, look at the GIF below. See? He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t even sad there, but his eyes ALWAYS LOOK THAT WAY. Not his fault, but I just can’t not notice it.

But now, we go to another place, and another set of eyes. Yuri makes his way to Yuriatin on a visit, and there, a reunion takes place at the library in town.

Yuri and Lara catch up, have a good time, and then OH GODDAMN IT

EVERY TIME! WHY IS IT INFIDELITY IN EVERY ONE OF THESE GODDAMN MOVIES??? Yuri’s seemingly happy, he’s got another kid on the way, and I get that he’s loved Lara for a long time at this point, but can we just have a SINGLE. FAITHFUL. RELATIONSHIP in these movies, for the love of CHRIST!!!

And this is just as Tonya’s close to giving birth to their second child. Yuri seems to realize this, and he heads to Yuriatin to officially end it with Lara...and he does, to some credit. It hurts them both pretty grievously, but he does what’s right. But NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED I GUESS

Red Partisan Army just kidnapped him! BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY DID. His poetry has finally caught up to him, and he is taken away from his “private life.” After all, like Pasha said, private life is dead in Russia. Fuck me, man.

So, Yuri’s been kidnapped as a field doctor for the Civil War, as the Red Partisans go up against the White Army, at one point killing a unit of literal children. During his stay, allies advocate for his release, but to no avail. Yuri is stuck with the army for TWO GODDAMN YEARS, away from his wife and two children.

He eventually just leaves, in the middle of the winter during a trek. He just...wanders off. Frozen, tired, and probably badly frostbitten, he makes his way back to Yuriatin, where he discovers that his family has left. However, it would appear that Lara may still be in town. Finding a key and letter meant for him, he makes his way into the apartment, where he passes out.

Lara cares for him as he wakes up, and reveals that Tonya and the kids are safe. Later, she gives him a sealed letter from Tonya, which was sent six months prior. It’s revealed that he was a daughter, Anna, and that they have been deported from Russia, and are going to Paris. They don’t know where they’ll be headed, and there’s no telling if Yuri will ever see them again. Which...sucks.

But then, soon after, the two get an unexpected visitor: Victor Fuckin’ Komarovsky! Yeah, thought you’d seen the last of him! he comes from Moscow, and offers the pair his help. See, Tonya and the kids are not in the best of situations down in France, and Yuri’s not only a deserter, but seen as a dangerous man by the government for his poetry, which has officially been labeled anti-Communist propaganda. Fuckin’ YIKES.

The two refuse their help at first, but Lara realizes the real danger that Yuri’s in. Turns out that Victor knows so much because he’s been appointed the Minister of Justice, and offers the two an out from the country. They continue to refuse him, and it’s revealed that Lara’s ALSO in trouble, as her husband is still technically Strelnikov. But, after Victor is ONCE AGAIN a DICK, they kick him out.

Realiing that they’re in trouble, the two escape to Varykino, which is gorgeous, by the way. Although the whole place appears to be dusty and a bit snowed in, the two and Lara’s daughter, Katya (Lucy Westmore) settle in. There, Yuri does something we’ve never actually seen him do: write poetry. To be specific, he writes a set of poems that he is famous for, by the time we get to the time period from the beginning of the film, all of which are themed around Lara.

It’s also at this point that the two begin their love affair in earnest, and...I weirdly am OK with this. Look, they’ve loved each other for a long time, and the likelihood that either of them will see their spouses again is EXTREMELY low. The two embrace their love, and begin to imagine what life would’ve been like if they’d met each other before.

But Victor, surprisingly, returns. He makes them an offer once again, and it’s revealed that Strelnikov is dead. Turns out that he was sought by the government, as they wished Strelnikov dead all along. He was headed to Lara when he was caught, and comitted suicide while in custody, returning to his true identity of Pasha at the end. Fuckin’ WHOOF.

But there’s the problem: with Lara’s usefulness as a lure gone, she’s now set to be executed, along with Katya. Given this information, Yuri agrees to go with Victor, and Lara and Katya come along. But guess what! THERE ISN’T ENOUGH ROOM ON THE CARRIAGE OUT OF THERE. BECAUSE OF COURSE THERE ISN’T.

And in case you weren’t sure, Zhivago is indeed left behind, as he actually never intended to go with Victor, due to his dislike for the man. But Lara’s now safe, which is what he wanted all along. Not to mention the fact that Lara is now pregnant with Yuri’s daughter. Which is when we cut back to the present day.

Tanya, from the very beginning, is almost certainly Lara and Yuri’s daughter. Born the same year, in the China or Mongolia (where Lara was headed with Katya and Victor), and with similar eyes and complexion, it’s a near certainty. She denies it, but Yevgraf continues. See, he eventually did find Yuri, malnourished, and cared for him.

Stalin’s now in charge, and Yuri is practicing Dr. Zhivago once more. Years later, he boards a trolley in the city, suffering from a heart disease at this point. On the trolley, he sees Lara walking on the street, and tries to get off to see her. But, once he finally gets off the trolley, the strain is too much for him.

At Yuri’s funeral, Lara and Yuri meet. There, she asks for Yevgraf’s help to find her child, but they never do. And after that, at some point...she’s taken to one of Stalin’s labor camps, where she most certainly died. Jesus, man.

And now, we learn of Tanya’s fate. Komarovsky, whom she believed to be her father, abandoned her on the streets when running from the chaos of the Russian Civil War. BECAUSE HE IS A GODDAMN DICK. She does not want to believe that this is the truth, but she says that she’ll consider it. As she and her partner, David, leave the interview, it’s revealed that she can play the balalaika, which her departed father could never do. But the fact that she’s a self-taught master of it speaks to her ancestry, as Zhivago and Lara’s daughter.

And uh...I’m gonna be honest, that didn’t even feel like 3 hours and 20 minutes. Really! That was Doctor Zhivago! I really liked this one! But more on that in the Review. Stay tuned for that!

#doctor zhivago #david lean #omar sharif #julie christie #geraldine chaplin #tom courtenay #alec guinness #rod steiger #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #useramby #mygifs #my gifs

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 6

[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]

Word Count:  6.7K

A/N:  I am now inspired to write again because a tweet said that Disney+ had hella issues on the date it dropped and 10 million people still stuck around to watch it.  I’m taking that same energy with me.

“Mara, I won’t ask you again.”  Erik says sternly.  Kimara looks around casually, glad that they are at least located in a public place...though he still doesn’t seem to care.

“MARA!”  Erik barks.

“Don’t cause a scene!  Damn, you have absolutely no common sense!”  She hisses as an elderly white couple looks away and walks faster down the path.  A breeze starts to pick up in the air, causing the treetops to dance in the distance.

“Really?  All I got is common sense when I hear you tryna pull a fast one on me.  And to bring someone I respect in on this, that’s fuckin low!”

Kimara adjusts her seating on the bench as the metal digs into you thigh meat.  “Respect??  Oh please, you were just knocking him on some petty shit last week!  And I didn’t mean to!  Ok?  I’m sorry!”

“For what?  I need specifics, lay out the entire situation for all the other nosy white folks walkin round the park today.  They wanna see someone act a fool, I’ll give it to them if you keep pussy footin around.”  Erik leans back on the bench, spreading his chest wide with pride as he stares her down.  She can’t stand him.

Kimara lets out a sigh, laying one hand on his inner thigh for extra focus.  “I am sorry...for putting you through so much pain and agony.  I know how much the relationship means to and I shouldn’t have put it in danger by getting myself involved without talking to you first.  And even then, I should’ve known better.  I couldn’t even enjoy it without thinking about you and what you would think.  So...never again.  I promise.”

Erik scratches his chin, bouncing his leg before dipping his head down to look at Kimara over his fake gold rimmed eyeglasses with matronly contempt.  “Long as you learnt never to watch Euphoria without me, we good.”

Kimara squeezes his leg, letting out a huge sigh of relief.  “Thank God.  You really bout to cut me over Fez and Rue huh?”

Erik sits up, clapping his hands together.  “They are the true OTP if I ever seen one.  They ain’t even gotta be intimate or whatever, just the fact that someone been through her journey and is now doing everything to help clean her up while the forces of small white town bullshit enable her is...poetry dawg.”  Erik leans back shaking his head in awe.

“Babe, you are sappier than a maple tree in the summertime.”  Kimara shakes her head, the loveliness of their conversation filling her head like a delicious fog she didn’t want to ever see the end of, but Erik’s lunch break was almost up.

Erik kisses her softly, making Kimara wipe the transfer of her gloss off his lips.  

“Uh uh!  Don’t worry bout all that baby.  If that shit makes your lips as good as I like, I could use some too.”

“You so stupid!”  Kimara cackles as they both get off their bench and walk side by side: his hand on her hip, her arms locked around his waist with one ear to his chest.

“This was nice.”  Erik says distantly, more to himself than to her.

Kimara cranes her face toward his.  “Yeah?”

He nods.  “Yeah, just to not think about any of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with, enjoy God’s creations out here in the gentrified park.  I feel like a damn retiree with stock and bonds and 401K real fat.”

Kimara settles in step with him again.  “But you have all those things…”

“But I ain’t retired!  White America don’t want a nigga to retire.  Swear everything would go belly up if Black folks could live off of the fruits meant for them.  They’d burn the whole damn thing down before that would happen.”

Kimara rubs his back to settle him.  “Peaceful thoughts, remember?”

Erik’s chest expands and caves.  “Aight.  But real life is literally around the corner, so as much as I would like to have you in my office, I got shit to take care of.”  Erik takes her chin and lifts her face up to his.  “My Mara, My Mara…”

“...I’ll never be farther.”  Kimara says with only slight embarrassment beause their little saying is so damn cute.  Erik used to do cute rhymes with her name around the quad whenever she got down on herself or he thought he had her on the ropes to giving in to him.  Rarely worked, but constantly appreciated.   “I gotta go get some extra stuff for our dinner party later this week, so hopefully I won’t be too long at the studio.  We got a new artist laying down a demo that should be pretty fire.”

Erik puts a fist to his mouth excitedly.  “Oh worm?  Finally my lady finna be the new M-M-M-Maybach Music!”

Kimara rolls her eyes.  “I’ll be more than that!  I got about two songs on there I’m getting writing credit for.  I may wind up on the radio and you don’t even know it.  But you’ll know them checks!”

Erik couldn’t smile harder if he had hooks in his mouth.  “Your passion got you going off!  Nothing wrong with it either, you deserve it.   It’s been a long time coming.”

“It has.  So, go on so I can make this deal happen.”

They locked fingers until distance forced them to break their grip.  Erik waves  off Kimara as she saunters up the path to the main road.  His chest swelled with pride over his lady, she’s always been one of a kind.  Her happiness is his happiness, without question.  As he walked away, across the exquisitely decorated post modern/art deco lobby, to the elevator to the 33rd floor to his office, a cloud of dread weighed back on him that only got better with the help of Alaina.  If she wasn’t his partner on this revamp project with Boeing, he’d be shitting himself on a regular.

Erik walks by a conference room, stopping short of turning the corner of the glass walls.  He opens the door and peeks inside to see his friend hunched over a laptop, jumping slightly in her seat as he came across the room towards her.

“Damn, Erik!  Why do your big ass feet step so lightly?  Almost gave me a heart attack!”  She breathed out a ragged sigh of relief.

Erik pulls out a chair to sit down, chuckling at her expense.  “My bad,  I just had to come in when I seen you slaving away in here.  Figured you could use a distraction.”

Alaina smooths her hair back in her bun, her nude colored mouth in a tight, closed smile.

“I WISH you were a distraction for me, but unfortunately this involves the both of us.  While you were on break, Asshole and Son recommend we draft a final proposal for the FAA to approve.”

Erik sat shocked.  “What? Fuck, I mean that’s fucking crazy but kind of exciting too, right?”

She wags her finger.  “Don’t forget we are only the field niggas round here.  It sounds like an honor but in the end I am sure little Leave it to Beaver will be taking all the credit his daddy can send his way in order to keep the big wigs in good graces within the family.”

Erik taps his fingers on the deep wooden table, thinking.  Would they really double cross him that far?  Bringing him in on a project to mentor the bosses son only to pull the rug up under him and make him look like player two?

“That’s so damn white, sounds right.”  Erik sighs in somewhat disbelief.

Alaina shrugs.  “Told you.  And until I hear it from him otherwise, that’s what I’m going to assume.”  Alaina sighs and stretches her shoulders before going back in on the keyboard.  

Erik furrows his brow.  “If that’s it, then why are you still working on it?  Don’t you wanna pack up and move on?  You were brought here special for this, your time is wasted the most.”

Alaina’s eyes cast a ‘nigga please’ gaze on Erik.  “Mr. Future Baby Fava, I think our time has been equally wasted.  But guess what isn’t cut for my time here?  My pay: which is double what I make at my primary while I’m here so…”  She slowly leans over to grab Erik’s wrist.  “...until I hear the fat white man sing, we’re gonna work on this project for as long as we can to milk that cow til it lays a golden goose egg and rolls the tortoise to the finish line!”

Erik scoffs.  Alaina’s antics are half the reason Erik can’t quite distance himself from her.  She has a liveliness that he’s kind of missed lately.  “Man, you a trip and a fifth.  But I like your style. Might as well get it done then.”

“Oh fuck that, I’m done for the day.”   Alaina crisply closes her laptop, packin it under her arm and grabbing her case with the other.

“Whatchu mean?  I thought you said-”

“I worked through my lunch, like a boss ass bitch does.  You gotta work yours off, so Imma leave you to it.  Call me if you bleeding out your ears from stress: no less than that.”

Erik rolls his eyes as he gets up and watches her walk away.  The woman is working his last good nerve on purpose, but he likes it.  The job isn’t as boring or predictable with her around.  Now he just has to show her who the superstar has been all this time.  If he works hard at this, it won’t be for these fat cats, it’s gonna be a bonafide competition and he ain’t scared to fight a girl.

—

At the studio, Kimara finishes up a session with a local up and coming artist named Delilah.  Sweet girl, comes across very introverted until a mic is in front of her.  Kimara appreciated her vibes and talent, baby girl is on trend so long as she stays cute she is bound to be noticed.  Kimara ends their session a little early, wishing her well when it was time to wrap.  

Kimara felt like the studio was her second home most of the time but today she had to get to her real home REAL quick to get dinner prepared.  Tonight is the double dinner date with T’Challa and his boo of the moment.  She kept trying to get ahold of Erik for help with ingredients but he kept leaving her on read.

Rick, the studio owner caught Kimara before she was able to get out the door.

“Hey Rick  I know I cut things early, but I don’t have a lot of time unfortunately.  I have dinner to take care of tonight with some friends that is so damn important, you wouldn’t believe.”

Rick smiles a large proud papa smile.  “Oh I won’t keep you, but this news might.  Remember Peter Gafflin?  Legendary alternative rock/country artist extraordinaire who really love you last time y’all were in the booth together.”

Kimara couldn’t forget that man from their last session.  She hadn’t been exalted for her talent that highly since Petey Pablo came in that one time and promised her name would be on a Freek A Leek remix.

“Yeah, what about him?” She asks.

Rick could not help his smile to save his life.  “He called me up earlier today, saying he is planning to go on the road soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.  That happens often when you drop a new album.”  Kimara says impatiently.

“Right.  So he was thinking that you would hopefully be available to join him for some shows on his North American leg of the tour.”

Kimara stood there like the Men In Black just wiped her memory.  “Are-are you serious?  When?  How?  What would I do??”

“He wants you to SING for him like you did that day, background vocals and he thought a duet portion would be nice too.  You know the song ‘Boys Aren’t Born on Tuesdays?’”

Kimara clutches her chest.  “Oh my God, that song is so rich.  And he wants ME  to sing it with him?”

“Uh huh!’  Rick slaps her arm in congratulations, but Kimara could barely feel anymore.  

“In front of thousands.  Across America...oh my God!”

Rick and Kimara hug excitedly, so much so that Rick has to wipe his eyes a little.  “So is that a yes?”

Kimara stopped cheering to finally think a little.  “I mean, I don’t know.  If this was any other time I would say yes, but...I have some obligation here.  I’m deep into trying to start a family and settle a little.”

Rick makes a face of pity.  “I understand, I know.  And I hope you do get that.  Just…”

“Just…”   Kimara parrots.

“...it’s Peter Gafflin.”

“It is Peter Gafflin.”  Kimara says disheartened.  She had been waiting for years to get something off the ground with a top tier artist, but the universe had a funny way of timing.

“Did I mention how much pay is?”  Rick muses.

--

Kimara fans herself with a newspaper as she watches the rolls baking in the oven.  She is so thankful to have gotten dessert from the bakery, because she was over it with cooking.  She checks her phone for the time:  ten minutes til 7.  Her notifications show nothing from Erik yet, though she texted him twice today reminding his to not forget them hosting T’Challa and his girl.  Twice, Erik texted that he’s got her, but that was five hours ago, now who knows what the hell he is up to.  It would be perfect to bring up her good news with him in front of T’Challa and his date, while he smiles up at her with a hand inconspicuous and possessively on her behind...

But the light and fluffy feelings for the evening were quickly dwindling.  Before she could send a last threatening text to convince him to bring his ass, the doorbell sounds at the last sentence.  Kimara curses out loud, grabbing her oven mitt to take out the rolls that are a perfect golden brown.  She dabs her brow with a spare dinner napkin before clopping her way to the door.

Opening it with a flourish, Kimara opens her arms in excitement.  

“You made it!”  She says with a cheery song.

T’Challa looks at her fondly, his mouth slowly curling into a smile.  Kimara warms up to seeing her friend at her doorway.

“I was going to say it has been too long, but time moves backward for you.  You look beautiful.”

Kimara places a hand on her hip for emphasis, trying to withhold her joy in his compliment in the worst way.  “Oh please, it hasn’t been that long.  You cleaned up good too.”

Kimara always enjoyed the way T’Challa dresses like royalty without even meaning too, choosing pieces that elongate his lean body, squaring his wide shoulders to create a proud presence.

T’Challa places a hand to his date’s lower back.  “Iman has been looking forward to this night all week.”

A smiling Iman holds out a bottle of Proseco.  “T  has told me so much about you and your husband.  You all seem to be a pretty tight family.”

Kimara takes the chilled bottle and leads them inside.  “Oh yes.  We have all known each other for so long, I can’t imagine not having known them.”  

Placing the bottle on the table, Kimara claps her hands anxiously.  “So I have prepared us a nice little salad and a pork...uh...pasta ”  Kimara’s mind goes blank trying to remember what it’s called, she had only Googled the recipe that day.  Tapping her foot, fidgeting, Kimara gives up.  “Hell, some type of pork and spaghetti with peppers and shit.  It’s got cheese too, it’s good.  LEGGO!”

T’Challa and Iman chuckle as they head to the dining room.  “Well whatever it is it smells great!  I know your man must be fat and happy living with you.”  Iman gushes, pulling out her chair to sit at the table.

Kimara shakes her head humbly as the unwraps the foil on the proseco.  “Lucky for me, he is pretty active at the same time so it sticks in the right places.  If only he could actually BE in the right places when we schedule things that way.  Oh shit, lemme find a cork opener.”  

Kimara rushes into the kitchen slamming drawer after drawer looking for the elusive corkscrew.  She slams the bottle down a little too hard in frustration and hears the vibration of her phone on the counter next to her.

“Do you need assistance, Kimara?”  T’Challa’s steady, gentle voice says behind her.  She turns to see his concerned face looking down at her, hands firmly planted behind him respectfully.  

Kimara waves her hand in frustration.  “Aht aht!  It’s fine, don’t leave Iman alone in there!”

“She is fine.  Are you?”  He asks quietly while opening a cabinet above the sink.  

Kimara opens her phone to look at her notification.  “Been better.  Rather not talk while I’m supposed to be entertaining you guys.”

“But-”

Kimara puts her phone down hard.  “RAGU!  It was a pork ragu!  With basil fettuccine, ugh!  DUH!”  Kimara turns to see T’Challa holding the corkscrew in his hand.  

T’Challa continues, ignoring her topic change.  “You should let me know if he isn’t being good to you.”

Kimara takes the corkscrew in one hand, bottle in the other trying to maintain her blood from boiling.  “No I don’t.  I would discuss that with my husband.”  

“And he is where?”  T’Challa asks calmly as Kimara walks past him and back to the table.

“God, what a help your beau is, we can finally have a much needed sip sip, eh?”  Kimara exclaims a little too happily, sitting at the table as she drills the corkscrew in.

T’Challa opens the glass serving dish to examine dinner.  “This smells very good, I will fix a plate for you, Iman.”

“No!  I should serve you, Mr. King!  Move your hand from that spoon.”  Iman gets up, swinging her hips happily from side to side, digging the serving spoon into the delicious mix of sauce, noodles, and meat.  

T’Challa gives a shy smile.  “I appreciate it greatly, thank you.”  

Kimara jerks the corkscrew out of the bottle too hard, knocking the handle against the table, causing T’Challa and Iman to look at her with shock.

“Pop goes the weasel, right?”  Kimara giggles as she pours a third of the bottle into her glass, half an inch from the brim.  She takes ahold of her glass, taking  a few hearty gulps.

“So!  Tell me how are things with you all, still in the honeymoon phase?”

Iman finishes off her plate, settling in to eat.  “Well,  I wouldn’t say that.  Me and T are still kinda getting to know each other still, so I think honeymoon phase is a little too soon to call,”  she says as she nervously scratches the back of her head as T’Challa just keeps on eating.

Kimara starts to feel warm, keeping mental note that the fucking must’ve halted between them.  “Well there’s no need to rush at all.  Relationships are so much damn work, it must be nice to cuddle up to a stranger every so often.”

Iman offers some wine to T’Challa who declines.  “Have things been going well at the studio?  Recording?”

“Oh yeah, more than recording actually.  Sure, I just wish that I had the gumption to pull the trigger on doing some of my own shit.  I got a lot of praise from artist and even the owner of the studio; I’ve known him a long time.  But when it all comes down to it I just wonder what’s the point.  That’s all gonna change soon though, no worries about me!”

Iman pouts with sympathy.  “What do you mean?!  You are a damn good looking lady and to have talent enough that people brag about, you gotta do something with it while you’re young and able!”

“I know I’m young and able.  Well, I’m trying to start a family while I’m still young and able too.”  Kimara mumbles, slumping in her chair.

“Oh!  You are?  Congratulations!  From what little I remember from the night I met T, he seemed like a handsome guy with a good head on him.  If he hadn’t brought us home, we may not be seeing each other now.”  Iman’s hand disappear under the table to presumably T’Challa’s thigh, who looks over at her with kind eyes.  “And that reminds me of your story.  So T here got you and your husband together.  What are the details on that?”

Kimara is two sips from the bottom of her glass.  “Ohhh, that’s not dinner conversation unfortunately.”

Iman makes eyes at her.  “Oooh, that scandalous huh?  We all adults here, but I understand.  Me and T weren’t very biblical our first night meeting so, hey.”

T’Challa wags a finger.  “It’s not that, don’t be crass.”

Iman tuts at him.  “I’m just being friendly, what’s the issue.”

“It’s a personal story.  It should wait until Erik is here at least.”  T’Challa offers.

Kimara puts her glass down, plate still empty or any dinner.  “I don’t wanna bring that nigga up here anymore tonight, aight?”

Iman freezes mid bite as T’Challa sits up in his chair.  “Kimara, please-”

“Uh uh!  I’m in my house, I say what I want, I won’t be talked down to.  Iman?”

Iman is still frozen.

T’Challa speaks up.  “I’m just saying-”

“I’m talking!  Iman?  My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for months now, fucking like rabbits and I have yet to get pregnant.  It’s gotten so I think he;s getting tired of fucking with me and now he is out ‘working late’.  Now, he loves me because we have been through a lot to get to the point of being a married couple and he has had to prove himself loyal to me after...a lot of bullshit.  But I ain’t got it in me to discuss play the Newlywed Game with you cuz hell if I know what my husband is up to anymore.”

T’Challa gets up from his chair abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, stomping towards the kitchen.

Kimara starts to laugh out loud.  “Oh shit, I think he’s pissed!  Ohh, let me see what this is about…”

Iman sits up anxiously.  “Do you need help?”

“No, no!  I got him, he’s very reserved with his frustrations, so I can deal.”  Kimara stomps into the kitchen.  “Now what is up with you??”

T’Challa takes a towel off of a rack, folding it twice.  “Did you need to unload on her like that?”

Kimara leans on the counter.  “Sure, woman to woman.  She seems to appreciate it.”

T’Challa opens the oven door, a plume of smoke billows out.

“Fuck!  Oh noooo, my rolls!”  Kimara exclaims, running to a window to open and fan out the smoke.  

T’Challa puts the baking sheet to the sink.  “I was trying to tell you I smell smoke.”  He tossed the towel down making the sheet clang.

Kimara fans her face, coughing.  “Oh, shit.  I just forgot.”

“Mhm.  You forgot your head this evening that’s certain.”

“What do you mean by that, T??”  Kimara asks mockingly.

T’Challa glares at her.  “If things weren’t going good, we could’ve rescheduled.”

“It’s funny you think I plan for my life to fall apart, cuz that is how it works right?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no one means to hurt my feelings or make me feel like shit until it happens.  You want me to be the perfect host.  Erik wants me to be a good wife and mother when I can’t even get a bun in the ov-”  Kimara stops short of the sentence.  T’Challa hangs onto silence waiting for her to finish.

“T’Challa, what if this is all a sign?  I burnt the rolls in the oven...because I can’t keep a bun in the oven?  Like pregnancy?  I can’t bake anything!!”  Kimara wails as she covers her mouth crying.  T’Challa goes over to her but stops short as Iman enters the kitchen.

“Hey, if everything is under control, I might head out.”

T’Challa looks back at Kimara then Iman.  “Well, let me call you a ride.”

“Already did.  Kimara, dinner really was good, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”

Kimara has her back turned, wiping her face before facing her.  “Thank you for coming.  You’re as nice as I heard.”

“I will walk you out then.”  T’Challa offers as they leave Kimara in the kitchen.  Her phone begins to ring, as she picks it up to find Erik’s name glowing on the screen.  All she can do is silence it, she was in no mood to talk, otherwise she might have to make a Lemonade album about it.  

Kimara goes back to her dining room table, sitting down to the bottle of wine.  T’Challa comes back in, closing the front door behind him.

“Eh, eh.  Put that down.  Eat something instead.”

Kimara groans as she swallows one more gulp from the bottle before getting it snatched from her hand.

“I’m not feeling your vibes T’Challa, honest.”  

“Vibes?  Do you hear yourself talking?”  

“Yeah I do.   That’s all I ever hear is my damn self.”

“You are not supposed to be drinking while planning a family, aren’t you?”  T’Challa asks softly, sitting next to her.

Kimara sighs deeply.  “I’ve done everything right.  All I’m supposed to do is carry, I can’t even get there.  God, I would kill for even a miscarriage, just to know that I didn’t completely fuck up my reproductive system!”

“STOP IT!”  T’Challa’s voice booms between them, reverberating off the walls.  Kimara sits upright, looking away from T’Challa’s face.  His energy calms as he leans a little further towards her.

“You do not deserve to beat yourself up like this.  Do you realize how far you’ve come in life from when I first met you to now?  There is no one as smart or witty or brilliant as you that I can also put faith in as a friend.”

Kimara fidgets with her fingers.  “Good thing Iman isn’t here to hear that.”

T’Challa sits back, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle himself.  “I won’t edit my statement, but she is a nice girl.”

“I still like Nakia better.”  Kimara says matter of factly.

T’Challa bristles at the name, looking into the distance.  “Yes, I guess she is my kryptonite, however too flighty.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

“What about that night?  What did it mean?”  Kimara asks.

T’Challa’s brow furrows.  “Which do you…”

“A few weeks ago?  My car?”  Kimara rubs her face roughly.  “Ughh, I hope it’s not the wine talking but I swear there was a moment that felt like...a thing.  Am I wrong?”

T’Challa does something he does not always do:  he begins to stutter.  It’s slow, without the skip, but a stutter nonetheless.

“I...Well...hmm,”  He says before his mouth motions wordlessly.

“...T?”  Kimara asks teasingly.  “It’s ok!”

He looks her in her eyes intensely, like she just cursed him out.  “Huh?”

Kimara shrugs.  “We didn’t do anything so it’s ok.  Don’t sweat.  That’s why I’m glad we are friends cuz I know nothing bad happens when you’re around.  No craziness, drama, you just bring me back down to earth with a good talk.  It was just a moment.  Gotta remember that.”  Kimara pats his knee and gets up.

“Wait, so were you thinking of me in a way that night?”  

Kimara sees a light flash across the curtains of her window.  “Well, look at this.  Daddy’s home.”  Kimara comes back to the table to pick up plates.  “T’Challa go ahead and have a good night.  You don’t wanna be here when I’m throwing dishes into the sink until Erik comes in and has the nerve to ask what the fuck is wrong with me.  When the whole nigga nerve of it all is that he would have the gall to think I’m wrong to begin with!”

T’Challa waves his hands heading for the door.  “I am already gone.”

--

The early morning sun is extra bright as erik drives himself and Kimara to see their regular fertility specialist Dr. Tracy.  

“I’m glad she was able to see us today.”  Erik says.

“Are you?”  Kimara asks while scrolling through her phone.

Erik scratches himself.  “Ion know, I just…”

“What?”

“I mean...if we do this it’s like cool, we finna get a baby off top-”

Kimara tuts at him.  “No!  She said that it still isn’t guaranteed.  We are good candidates but not to expect success right away.”

Erik lets out a groan.  “Right, right.  Can’t no shit come easy for me.”

Kimara looks at his profile as he drives, catching Erik looking out the corner of his eye.  “What you lookin at me like that for?”

Kimara crosses her arms.  “I’m just trying to figure out what to title your sob story in all of this.  ‘I do what I want and when it don’t go like I plan I pout?’  Or ‘Fuck everything and everyone, I’m going through it but don’t ask me what’s wrong?’”

“Damn Mara!  The fuck you gotta go there for?  The minute I try and share something with you, you bite my fucking head off!”

“Watch yourself cursing at me!  I ain’t in the mood for it, and I ain’t letting it fly like that today, ok?  I don’t need this much excitement before an appointment.”

“Then don’t go nuts on me like you some damn comedian, roasting my ass.  I’m here ain’t I?”

“Do you not wanna be?!”  Kimara shrieks.

Erik goes silent, turning on the click of his turn signal.  The tension in the car is sky high and although Erik doesn’t mind a fight, he knew not to act a fool in front of these doctors in this side of town.  

Kimara leads inside to check in with the receptionist.  As they sit in the lobby, Erik is glued to his phone the entire waiting period, fingers texting furiously.

“Why ain’t you holding my hand?”  Kimara asks.  “You always hold it while we wait.”

Erik looks over quickly and leans back offering out his hand.  “My bad.”  While the other continues to work double time on his screen.  

“Who is...Alan?”

Erik jerks his phone back.  “It’s not Alan.”

Kimara drops his hand.  “Than who is it?”

“Work.”  He says curtly, flipping to his Instagram instead.

“Is something wrong with the project you’re working on?  Is Alan the one helping you?”

“Yes and no.”  Erik says.

“Wait.  It is wrong and Alan isn’t helping?”

“It’s not Alan!”  Erik bellows before coughing to cover his outburst.

“Kimara?”  Dr. Tracy says brightly with a smile, waving them back.  Kimara smiles tightly back.

In her office, Dr. Tracy goes over the procedures and preparations for IVF, with all of the medical jargon, followed by some generous simplified explanation.  It all sounded complicated and expensive but Kimara was grateful to hear about everything that could make her miracle possible.

“And Erik, you can be an awesome support by making sure to watch your alcohol intake, exercise, eat healthy, and avoid any environmental pollutants.”

“I was bout to watch that Chernobyl show; is that off the table now?”  Erik asks.

“Erik, you ain’t got time for shit else, quit playing.”  Kimara says with a little bark in her voice.

Erik laughs in a menacing tone.  “Ok.”

Dr. Tracy looks between them nervously.  “...we also provide counseling to couples during the process, as it can be difficult.”

“I wouldn’t mind it, but he wouldn’t be able to make it.”  Kimara says.

“Oh you speak for me now?”

Kimara shrugs.  “If you ain’t there, how else can things go forward?”

Erik sputters in disbelief.  “I won’t be getting like this in front of the damn doctor.  Thanks, doc.  I got the prescription and shit, let’s go.”  Erik keeps talking under his breath as he leaves the office.  Kimara gets up to leave

“Is everything ok between you two?”  Dr. Tracy asks.

Kimara hesitates before saying it’s fine, nothing more than a couples spat.  Erik may have been right about needing to change doctors.  At least a new one wouldn’t know when things were wrong.  This would just look like a normal interaction to fresh eyes.

Back at their house, Erik is reading the instructions for her shots.

“Says this supposed to help in producing eggs for you.  Still gonna take a while though.”

Kimara sits silent watching her shows.

“Remember to mark down when you got your period last.  Supposed to start doing these on your next cycle.”

Silence.

Erik folds the instructions up, standing from the dining room table.  He comes up behind the couch, leaning next to Kimara’s ear.

“Nassau is this weekend, you know?”  SIlence.  “You picked us a real good spot to make our own magic down there.  I think we need it.”

“WE need a lot more than a trip to an island.  Erik, you still ain’t said sorry for a damn thing you said to me today.”

Erik scooches to one side of Kimara to face her.  “What should I apologize for?”

“Embarrassing me?  Not telling me about what’s going on with you and also not asking how things are with me?  Being secretive and mean to me?”  Kimara’s eyes begin to well up.  “You ain’t talked to me without walking off mad in so long, I don’t wanna get used to it Erik!  You didn’t used to do that!”  Erik hooks one leg followed by the other over the back of the couch to sit next to Kimara, holding her hands tight.

“It makes me think about before you left for that damn military out the blue.  You snapped on me back then too.  You tryna go somewhere else again?”

“Hell no!  That life is behind me, I got nothing but you and work to get through now.”

“So I’m a damn task?”  Kimara mopes.

“No!  Look:  I don’t mean to say anything to make you think you boring because you’re not.  You’re the most exciting thing in my life, and I love having you with me.  Every time I’m reminded you’re my wife, I’m thinking how we should be on our damn tenth wedding anniversary instead of third.  But I’m done and thankfully you’re not.”

“Then why are you doing me like this?”

“I-I don’t wanna force shit on you more than you can handle.  I got things happening at my job right now that could make you think the worst, but I promise it’s not.  And you don’t need that pressure right now.”

“Neither do you!”  

“I can handle it.  You focus on your dreams at the studio, and getting ready to host the biggest headed baby your womb will ever know.”

Kimara snorts thinking about this, looking down instinctively.  Erik takes one side of her face in his hand.

“I wanna be more open but I don’t wanna cost you anything too.  So until shit blows over, just know I got this.  Be patient with me, and I promise to be more patient too.”

Kimara pulls Erik to her for a longing kiss, rubbing his face for comfort.  She could feel he cares, but there was still so much gnawing in her mind, she just wasn’t ready to discuss.  But there was one thing.

“One more thing though, before I call it forgiven and get to packing for the trip.”

“You still ain’t packed?”

“I’m asking the questions!  Who is Alan?”

Erk sighs, dipping his head down before looking her in the face to answer.  “Alaina.

“He’s a what?”

“Huh?  No, Alaina.  The name was Alaina not Alan.”

Kimara’s face draws up inquisitively.  “And...she is?”

“My partner for the project I’m working on.  They recruited her from another region and-”

“That’s who you spent the night with instead of dinner with T’Challa and me and his girl?”  Kimara asks.

“I came home!  Don’t make it sound like that, it was a late night.  Ole dude I work for keeps piling shit on me and deadlines-”

Kimara waves her hands in front of him.  “It’s fine.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ok!”  Kimara smiles.  “Seriously, I trust you.  You said works been beating your ass, and I know you wouldn’t be looking all sour if you were getting some ass on the side, so I think I can trust you aren’t cheating.”

Erik stared at her speechless before nodding and agreeing.  

“Plus, we tryna have a baby and I know you wouldn’t mix shit up with her when all that seed is mine, like that would be wasteful.”

Erik growls in his chest, leaning over her, nose to nose.  “Say that again.”

Kimara holds back her smile, rubbing his chest.  “Your seeeed is miiiine.  Don’t waste it.”  Kimara bites his lip at the end of ‘it’, catching him of guard, but not enough to lay her out legs spread quicker than she could blink.

“Wait wait, Erik.  I can’t!”  Kimara says, half giggling.

“Whatchu mean??  You playing with a dog and get afraid when you get the bark?  Quit playing and get them draws off.”  Erik pulls at her bottoms.

“No!  Wait!  I mean it, I’m cramping and shit.  I don’t want nothing near my pussy right now.”

Erik moans out loud in frustration, plopping backwards on the couch, erection pushing at his sweatpants.

Kimara lowkey loved making him wait, period or not.  It’s nice to see he still wants her, and no one else has his attention to fix his rather big problem throbbing in his pants.

“Erik?  You never told me what you think about the tour.”

Erik exhales loudly.  “Good idea, that’s finna kill my hard on real quick.”

“Erik!”  

He sits up, pushing down on himself.  “Mara, I want you to get your hustle goin, I know you been singin since way way way back.”

“Hold up, it ain’t been that long, makin me feel old.”

Erik bops her with his shoulder.  “You know you been my Suga Mama.”

“Two months older Erik.  Dassit!”

Erik looks at the floor, rubbing her knee.  “I just don’t understand why you think it’s best to leave now.  What Imma do without you for two months?”

“Whatever you been doin get home late at night.”  Kimara says flatly.

“The project is almost finished, do I don’t know where that attitude came from.”  

Kimara sits silent, not up for a fight, especially in her hormonal state.

Erik stares at her, testing her.  He knows she wants to say more, she always does.  “I got two more weeks on this, and it’s done.  My workload is gonna be lighter, more boring, and I promise my time will be yours, but now you wanna leave, so.”

“But you understand why right?  It doesn’t sound like you do.  I don’t wanna leave you alone or stop trying, but...this is my dream!”

“Having a family is too right?  That’s why all our time and money been revolving around everything related to that for almost a whole damn year.  It’s fucking flaky.”  Erik shoots back.

“Erik, you got to do what you wanted, right?  This ain’t new with you!  When you want something, you go for it, fuck anybody that gives a shit, it’s yours.  I’m tired of being in the shadow of your shit, cleaning things up so you can have your peace.  This is mine.”

“The fuck is you talkin about??  Is your PMS going retrograde or some shit?”  Erik speaks over her in an agitated tone.  Nothing Kimara said made sense anymore to him.

Kimara gets up, waving him off.  “Eat my ass Erik,  I said what I fucking had to say and I mean that shit.”

Masterlist

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @sarcastic-sunshines @muse-of-mbaku@dameshaemonique  @fonville-designs@destinio1@bakarisange l@wakanda-inspired @klaine15689 @savageiz @nickidub718 @yoyolovesbucky @alexundefined @forbeautyandlife​ @bakarisangel

#shakafic #black panther fic

[themagiciansreccenter]

Author Spotlight: @hoteldestiel​

Every week we are going to be interviewing a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

Yo! I’m Tor, 20s, pansexual, emotional about too many things, obsessive about characterization, and a sucker for chaotic goods and theater gays. Words are, for lack of a better way of describing it, my everything. They get me through the darkest times and help me celebrate the lightest ones. Creating worlds, and making people feel with what I create… there is no way (that I’ve found yet) to properly explain how much it all means to me.

How long have you been writing for?

My grandpa tells me I’ve been writing stories since I could form sentences. I believe him. I have a little “book” I wrote in kindergarten about a princess who refused to be “saved” when the prince showed up so clearly strong female characters have been my jam for like, ever. Honestly, it’s been my Defining Thing for as long as I can remember.

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

The depth in the characters, the depth of the relationships, the real way it tackles mental illness and trauma. The emotional rawness of the show. It’s all a fanfic writer’s dream tbh.

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

Eliot is my bb. He’s so much more complex and deep and dark and twisty than he gets credit for, but I think what I love most is the way he’s willing to fall on the sword for those he loves a thousand times over. He doesn’t want to be the hero, necessarily, but he refuses to let those he cares about down, and I dunno, that just breaks my heart into a trillion pieces. I also really like writing Fen, again, I think she’s a lot more layered than she gets credit for a lot of the time, and I like exploring that.

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

Not yet. I’m obsessed with the mosaic, but I love exploring where they are at different points in the series as well. Check back with me in like a month when I’m officially dying about season 4 and just need to write my way out of that hell hole of emotion ;)

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

I am! I’m continuing to work on my multi-chap mosaic/canon divergent fic, Peaches and Plums, and I’ve got several oneshots in the work, some POV studies of an emotional scene, a who-knows-what-it’ll-turn-into where the monster can key into Eliot’s attraction to Quentin, and of course my 39 Graves timeline. 

How long is your “to do list”?

Embarrassingly long lol. There’s so much I want to do!!

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

Peaches and Plums is my baby right now. It’s the first Magicians fic I wrote, and it’s the one that gave me the confidence that I could portray these characters in a true-to-them way. Plus, mosaic flashbacks and an Eliot Depression Monster I mean come on.

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

Not yet! I’m still kind of new to the fandom, but I’m sure I’ll have a list before the month’s out haha.

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

I write best when I have headphones in and a cup of hot tea or coffee beside me. Whenever possible, I like to write by hand for my first draft. Something about it just gets me in a better flow, and then I get a built-in editing pass when I transfer it to the computer! I don’t know if it’s a superstition or not, but I have a certain kind of pen I like to use most (anything that’s like the sharpie pen), I’m convinced it makes me just a tiny bit more creative.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

So I only started writing between season 3 and 4, but based on my other writing life decisions, I tend to be a slave to the muse. When an idea strikes, I have to at least start drafting. I actually kind of love getting inspired by a cliff hanger or a character development and using that to write my own version of what happens next. Seeing what happens in canon after is a) hilarious and sometimes b) prophetic in which case I feel like a total badass.

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

My 39 Graves fic, there’s just so much to balance!

Are there any themes or tropes that you particularly like to explore in your writing?

The found family thing is so my jam, characters dealing with trauma in unexpected and nontraditional ways is another, and the many forms that love can take is another theme I like to explore. It works SO well with these characters and the ways in which they love one another, too.

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

I mean it’s hard not to be inspired by ohmarqueliot (sorry, had to!), and OneEyedDestroyer (again, had to!) The work they do is so fantastic. I love czarrish (vharmons on Ao3) to death. In the non-fanfiction world, Maggie Stiefvater has floored me time and time again with the way she builds worlds and tension and characters. The woman writes pure poetry.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Fanfiction: Sharing Skin and Modified Aspect Ratio.

Non-fanfiction: The Magicians (look I need as much inspo for this 39 graves fic as I can get!)

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given? 

Make people feel something. Also, using “said” 99% of the time as opposed to other speaking descriptors. When you just use “said,” you’re forced to paint their emotions in other ways, and it makes the scene so much more alive.

Cringe time:

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

Chuckling, eyebrow-arching, scoffing, and waving of hands dismissively. I’m CONSTANTLY afraid of overusing those, especially because I write so much from Eliot’s point of view. Honestly, laughter, in general, is a dangerous line I walk. It can become such a space-filler, but I’m working on it!

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

Oh god, I think it was HP fanfic, and it was in like...junior high. So alas, I do not.

Rapid Fire Round:

Self-edit or Beta? Combo, but I LIVE for a beta. 

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes? Comments! I love seeing what others think of what I’m creating.

Smut, Fluff or Angst? Is all of the above an option? No? Angst probably pulls at me the most.

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn? Slow. Mother. Effin. Burn.

Favourite season? Favourite episode? 3. A Life in the Day

Favourite book(The Magicians books)? I just started the series!

Three favourite words? (this is really freaking hard!) electric, fuck, home

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

#the magicians #the magicians rec center #author spotlight #author spotlight: hoteldestiel

[ts1989fanatic]

ts1989fanatic Sorry about posting this but it pissed me off so much I had to share it with other or have my head explode. I’m pretty sure I have seen other Daily Beast articles in the past by this same so called writer that were just as critical (WRONGLY) of Taylor Swift.

It’s Time for Taylor Swift to Denounce Her Neo-Nazi Admirers

The pop superstar is worshipped as an ‘Aryan goddess’ by the white supremacist community. In the wake of Charlottesville, the least she could do is speak out.

In a world overrun by the idiotic and underqualified, it’s tempting to credit public figures with nonexistent cunning or forethought.

As nice as it is to imagine that the president of the United States isn’t just “ad-libbing” on North Korea, the facts maintain that there isn’t any sort of political chess at play here—everyone and everything really is as dumb as it seems.

With one exception. In an era of unbridled ids, impetuous boys, and impromptu boasts, there is one woman who is consistently 10 steps ahead: a pop music Machiavelli and Svengali of mutually beneficial relationships who also happens to be a pretty talented EDM scribe.

Naturally we’re talking about Taylor Alison Swift (alias: Nils Sjoberg), a 27-year-old singer-songwriter with a rare talent for self-preservation. Taylor Swift famously maintains strict control over her brand, and has been criticized in the past for her superficiality and attention to detail. From drafting an A-list squad of giraffe-legged pals to threatening to take legal action against some ardent fans on Etsy, Swift seems like a woman who knows exactly what she wants. Taylor Swift might look like a harmless, sugary-sweet pop princess, but make no mistake: This woman keeps Ryan Reynolds’ soul in a calligraphy-labeled Mason jar on her Rhode Island estate. She is not fucking around.

Somehow, through sheer strength of will, Taylor Swift convinced her millions of fans that she was a very sweet and chill girl next door. She realized that feminism was in and began marketing herself as a proponent of girl power, a victim of narcissistic and entitled dudes who would, nevertheless and against all odds, persist. But Swift’s delicate house of vaguely feminist aphorisms and carefully posed lady-Instagrams came tumbling down last summer, when Kim Kardashian outed Swift on Snapchat. The details of that social media checkmate—Swift condemned Kanye’s lyrics, harnessed this victimhood for her public image, was thwarted by leaked footage of Kanye running the track by her in the studio and then reduced to a Notes app statement—are already the stuff of legend. It was the “Kim you’re doing amazing sweetie” heard ’round the world. Unexpectedly pushed into an abyss of unlikability and overexposure, Swift quickly went into crisis/self-imposed exile mode: R.I.P. Hiddleswift, highly publicized squad parties, post-workout crab walks, and the days of underestimating Mrs. Kim Kardashian West.

Luckily for those of us with an appetite for drama and Tracy Flick-style anti-heroines, Taylor Swift plays a long game. Last week, Swift made her first major move since the summer of her Snapchat discontent, testifying in court against former radio DJ David Mueller. The jury ultimately sided with Swift, who alleged that Mueller had “intentionally reached under [Swift’s] skirt, and groped with his hand an intimate part of her body in an inappropriate manner, against her will, and without her permission” during a 2013 meet-and-greet. What happened to Swift was horrible and, as her suit stresses, against her will. But how the pop star chose to present herself in court worked completely to her advantage. When asked about her knowledge of police procedurals, Swift joked about her love of Law & Order: SVU—relatable! When pressed on why no one else witnessed the groping, Swift countered, “Because my ass is located in the back of my body.” Humor, wit, poise, just enough venom and an anatomy lesson to boot? Is it just me, or is 2017 “taking the stand” Taylor Swift actually likable?

At a time when many of us are just barely surviving off a steady diet of revenge fantasies and rage, it makes perfect sense for Swift to rebrand herself a pretty blonde vengeance demon. Why be a saccharine singer-songwriter when you can be an Arya Stark? Likability is so close that TayTay can probably taste it, and I think I’ve come up with a way to finally put her over the edge: All Taylor Swift has to do is denounce neo-Nazis.

Denouncing neo-Nazis might sound like a low bar or a meaningless declaration—if you don’t happen to be rocking a Fred Perry polo and holding a tiki torch your buddy Cole picked up for you at Party City and/or the president of the United States, you should have no problem condemning Nazism. And why should a pop singer have to personally clarify her position on white supremacy? This question would be perfectly valid if we were talking about Selena Gomez, Katy Perry, Beyoncé, or any other major female celebrity who hasn’t been heralded in certain dark corners of the internet as an Aryan princess/secret neo-Nazi. Unfortunately, Taylor Swift has long taken on a starring role in some pretty sick Nazi fan fiction.

In an in-depth 2016 Broadly article, neo-Nazi Andrew Anglin of The Daily Stormer explained Swift’s fashy appeal: “Firstly, Taylor Swift is a pure Aryan goddess, like something out of classical Greek poetry. Athena reborn. That’s the most important thing,” Anglin insisted. “It is also an established fact that Taylor Swift is secretly a Nazi and is simply waiting for the time when Donald Trump makes it safe for her to come out and announce her Aryan agenda to the world. Probably, she will be betrothed to Trump’s son, and they will be crowned American royalty.”

Now, it follows that Swift wouldn’t want to dignify these lunatic ravings with a response, or spend any more time than absolutely necessary contemplating a relationship with either of Donald Trump’s large adult sons. But at a certain point—preferably before a white supremacist website publishes dozens of posts praising her Aryan bloodline—it might behoove a celebrity to publicly condemn the racist anti-Semites who are claiming her as their queen. People like Anglin seem to genuinely believe that Swift will be on their side come race war Armageddon. And now that Nazis and counter-protestors are actually fighting in the streets, there’s no time like the present for Taylor Swift to finally come out as anti-Nazi.

After an act of domestic terrorism in Charlottesville left one woman dead, The Daily Stormer—aka Taylor Swift’s unofficial fan site—mocked the victim of the white nationalist attack. For GoDaddy, The Daily Stormer’s obscene and disturbing language was enough to convince them to finally dump the neo-Nazi website. Taylor Swift needs to get in on all this Nazi condemnation action. Why should Jennifer Lawrence get all the likes?

Now, in the past, Swift has scrupulously avoided any sort of political statement. She expresses her “feminism” through sanitized non-statements like, “I’m proud to be a woman today, and every day.” Not only did she refuse to endorse a presidential candidate—she wouldn’t even denounce the candidate who was accused of serial sexual assault. Given Swift’s history of failing to do the bare minimum, and her past swastika mini-scandal, it’s unlikely that she’ll make an anti-Nazi statement. Then again, the bar has never been so low. No one is expecting Taylor Swift to go on the campaign trail for Kamala Harris or exhibit a working knowledge of intersectionality—just to condemn the neo-Nazi community that’s already claimed her as one of their own.

Say it after me, TayTay: “I, Taylor Swift, denounce Nazis. And I am not attracted to Eric Trump.”

ts1989fanatic THIS IS TOTAL BULLSHIT AND Taylor should ignore this crap.