#the book is called According to the Rolling Stones

[thedeviousdevilxx]

Mick Jagger

Photo by Val Wilmer

#Mick Jagger #The Rolling Stones #from this book I got from a thrift store #the book is called According to the Rolling Stones #Rock N Roll #1960s #The Sixties

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

#yandere #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #pet human #cw dubcon #mind break #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cw mind control #part three

[myobsessionsspace]

"My last point is that I don't really see JK being a club going person."

I was going to say this a well. I quite don’t get why some people portray him as a party boy when he has shared several times that he’s more of a homebody and feels more comfortable chilling with friends or relaxing at home - which, for an introvert, isn’t surprising at all. He seems like someone who has a small close circle of friends and doesn’t really socialize outside of it. Sure we don’t know him in private and it’s not like he never goes out obviously but I’ve always felt he was pretty transparent and sincere with us. So I really don’t get the need for some fans to portray him as a person he hasn’t shown to be. It’s weird, it’s like he’s not enough for them so they have to twist his personality to make it fit the way they would like him to be. That’s not exactly what I call love, but well..

~Ask Anon is referring to~

Hi lovely!

Right?! Talk your talk 💪

Like how many times has Jungkook shown and spoken about his MTBI?! He’s an introvert through and through. From what we’ve seen he has his select few that he’s himself with and has fun with but we’ve seen him when not working like a dog, at home or working out.

Introvert in the wild

He drinks at home, due to sasaengs he works out at home, he sings karaoke at home, he cooks at home.

Of course he must do things with people that we don’t see or know about but the pervasive notion that he’s some addict fuck boy boils down to ta few things, the main ones in my mind right now, small mindedness and baseless rumours.

Small mindedness because according to the teen book, movie, tv, fanfic stereotype the dark clothes, piercings, tattoo, bike riding, quiet type can and only ever will be a ‘fuck boy’. He has a group of 97z idol friends that one outing, that made headlines, determined his character from that point forward. What else has he done that warrants such judgements? Drink at home in front of his phone? Have boxing as a hobby? Own a motorcycle alongside owning cars too?

The Wattpad f*ck boy of their dreams 😑 I’ve literally SEEN countless Wattpad covers, some actually entitled ‘f*ck boy’ or with a fuckboyjungkook! tag, no joke!!!

Rumours because his blonde foreign, dancer, idol, older actress, tattoo artist girlfriends all can attest under oath to his ways, no wait it’s the random online account holders that can attest under oath due to their inside knowledge

No matter how often he shows himself to be a homebody. No matter how often over the years the members and Jungkook talk about how Jungkook likes to stay in. Jungkook saying he’d rather join in on other people’s plans as he’s not one to do much of left to his own devices. Namjoon saying Jungkook likes to stay at home and Hobi saying ‘he’ll go for Jimin’. Jungkook saying he stays in and when given Netflix suggestions says he’s watched them all, used to stay in and play video games, draw and create etc it’s not enough to shift certain people’s mindset because his outward appearance sets it in stone for them. Oh that and his FICTIONAL music videos where he holds a woman’s hand and starts at another woman’s forehead

When the camera is rolling for the MV character, the pop idol

When the camera isn’t rolling for the MV character but to capture the man Jeon Jungkook

There are so many side to this young man who has an aesthetic expression that people will not get over.

Curteous

Kind and respectful

Loving

Tender and caring

Cute. Sorry Jungkook you are a grown man, yes, but still so damn cute!

You’re right in my opinion anon but I will say one thing…

You said: ‘It’s like he’s not enough for them […]’

I say: He’s too much for them, so they have to simplify him to a caricature because him as a whole is someone they can never appreciate, how he deserves to be appreciated. Him as a whole can’t be the person they’ve deemed their fantasy or enemy.

Thank you for your ask😊! As you can tell I needed to get that out and you gave me the opportunity 🙈

💜

#Jungkook #Anonymous Asks #Jikook #the last tag just because…

[lvrhughes]

Blonde | J. Drysdale

pairing: Jamie Drysdale x f!reader

word count: 0.4k

summary: You met Jamie as a brunette, but feeling up for a change, go blonde without telling him.

warnings: none?

requested: no

not my gif!

It was a surprise when you, a brunette, started dating Jamie. Stereotypically being into blondes, just like every other player, but he went for you. According to the internet ‘a win for the brunettes’ but that was going to die out for now, feeling in need of a change, why not try blonde.

Blondes have more fun right?

“Thank you so much, it looks amazing.” you grinned, looking in the mirror.

“Of course, it really suits you, if you want to go lighter feel free to book another appointment.” the stylist smiled back, leading you towards the til. 

You left, practically jumping with anticipation, would Jamie like it? Would it matter if he liked it? At least you loved it. Your thoughts interrupted by the ringing of your phone, grabbing it to see Jamie’s contact. 

“Hey baby.” you could hear his smile over the phone, “ practice just ended, when are you home?”

“I’ll be home in a few minutes, sweet boy.” 

“I don’t want to wait!” he groaned, hearing his dramatic fall onto the couch.

“Patience, lover, I’ve even got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” 

“Oh, you’ll see when I get home, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too, I’m excited.”

The call ended, leaving you to drive home, your thoughts littered with how Jamie might react. You pulled into the driveway, parking beside Jamie's car, seeing that Trevor was also over, killing two birds with one stone. 

“I’m home!” you called entering the house, hearing the immediate padding of Jamie’s steps towards you. His arms quickly engulfed you, pulling you into his chest without second thought.

“I missed you!” 

“Jam, I was gone for two hours.” 

“Two hours too long.” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you. You complied, leaning up to kiss him. 

“Did you even notice?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Notice what?” The confusion made you pull away laughing. “What’s funny? What am I missing?” 

“Her hair, dumbass!” you heard Trevor call behind him. 

“Oh,” he paused for a moment, looking you over quickly, “Baby, you look amazing.” you could see how dilated his pupils were, staring at you as if you were the last woman on earth. “I mean you always look amazing, but Baby, this is next level.” 

The word eliciting laughs from you, Trevor standing behind Jamie nodding. All while Jamie continued to roll off compliments, saying how well it suited you and how good it looked. 

“Thank you baby.” you giggled, Jamie moving on from compliments to peppering your face with kisses. 

“You look so good, baby i got to show you off.” he was pulling out his phone quickly, taking as many pictures as he could. 

“Jamie, those are probably horrible!” you groaned, he laughed in response.

“Baby, you could never look horrible.”

jamiedrysdale

jamie.drysdale my girl went blonde😮‍💨

trevorzegras she be looking good

jamie.drysdale chose your next words wisely

yourusername thank you baby<3

jamie.drysdale anything for you my love<3

_quinnhughes my baby sister is killing it again

yourusername thank you quinnifer, you're always killing it

_quinnhughes I thought you said you wouldn't call me that?

jamie.drysdale she claims she made no promises

jackhughes hear me out... Jamie goes blonde

jamie.drysdale no

yourusername yes

trevorzegras yes

user246 when he posts her😮‍💨

yourusername so true, so true

#jamie drysdale oneshot #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #anaheim ducks #anaheim ducks imagines #mads writings! #insta edit

[witchsickness]

the day neil leaves, max wakes up to a note on her nightstand.

it’s the end of august. her brother’s been dead for almost two months.

good riddance, the note says. makes her laugh, and that. it hasn’t happened in a while. max thinks, right on, and draws the covers over her head again. no one’s there to yell her out of bed, anyway.

a week later, she’s sitting on another bed, in another room. smaller and affordable and miserable, which is what you get for being a single mom’s offspring in indiana. her brother’s life is taking over her entire floor, tapes and books and jackets spilling out of the one box it all fits in. even in death, billy refuses to be contained.

you’re dead, max thinks, feeling like she’s being pushed out of her own life. you don’t get to do this anymore.

on the first day of school, she shows up in his jacket. it’s too hot for leather yet. by the end of the day she’s cranky, and sweat-flushed, and her nostrils are cologne-coated. instead of skating back to the trailer, she turns left.

one of them is stone, so this is bound to be pretty one-sided, but. they need to talk.

‘i miss you,’ she tells him. ‘i hate you.’

she doesn’t wait for an answer. she knows better by now.

when she finally makes it back to her room, there’s another note waiting for her, squashed under a tape. side-b, the note instructs, track 3. the colors on the cover are too bright, dissonantly happy against the earthy brown of the room. a kind of magic, the title mocks her. max closes her eyes against it, because she’s long stopped believing in good things.

she presses play. don’t lose your head, freddie sings, and max plays the song again, and again, and thinks, too late.

‘where’d you get this?’ lucas asks her the next day, turning the tape this way and that.

max fights the urge to snatch it away and hide it from everyone she’s ever loved. ‘billy gave it to me,’ she says, before her brain can catch up to her mouth. so much for keeping sane. it’s almost worth it for the horror in dustin’s eyes, and the squeak her stupid, wonderful boyfriend lets out when he throws the tape back at her, panicked.

boys. can’t even handle a teeny haunting.

what max focuses on, though, is the way steve’s eyes go comically big, and then look away. one thing max knows about steve harrington is he’s a shitty liar.

she spends the day wrapped in her brother’s jacket and claims her grief-earned place on the passenger seat of steve’s car the second the bell rings. sorrow is neat, once you get the hang of it. max has been calling shotgun for the last two months, and no one’s said a word.

the moment lucas is out of the car, she turns to steve. ‘what did yours say?’

steve chokes on his own breath, because he’s the dumbest boy in the whole world, and her brother’s taste is terrible. ‘no idea what—’

max pinches his arm, hard. ‘how did lying to my brother work out for you?’

he lets out a sigh, while rolling his eyes, while driving. sure, max is the hazard here. ‘ugh,’ he says, ‘fine,’ and makes a right towards his place.

ten minutes later, max is standing in steve’s kitchen, staring at his notes. steve’s three notes. ‘i’m his sister and i got two.’

‘it’s not a competition.’

max glares him to silence. ‘that the first?’ she asks, pointing to a napkin with the word SLUT covering what max guesses is a girl’s phone number, signed with a kiss.

steve stares at it, visibly annoyed. ‘nope. that one, then the napkin. totally uncalled for, by the way. third one appeared last night.’

thanks for keeping an eye on her, reads the first, scrawled on a post-it next to the phone. according to steve, it appeared before july was over. not even a month of being dead and billy was already bored.

it’s so painfully him. max laughs despite herself, and realizes it happens often lately.

the third note is just a doodle of a skull like the one max spent last spring making fun of her dumb brother for, except this one’s got a mullet, and an earring dangling from the hole where his left ear should be, and the words guess who scribbled on one corner.

max slaps steve’s arm to keep from crying. ‘why didn’t you say anything?’

‘say what? hey, this is crazy, but i think your dead brother is harassing me from the grave? do you know how stupid that sounds?’

‘uh, no worse than usual?’

steve gasps dramatically. ‘how sure are we you’re not just possessed by his spirit? you never used to be so mean.’

max fixes him with a look.

‘fine,’ steve sighs, throwing his stupid hands in the air, ‘you’ve always been mean.’ he nods at the notes on the counter. ‘what’re we gonna do about that?’

‘we obviously need to find him.’

‘oh, yeah? you got a map of the underworld i don’t know about?’

rolling her eyes, ‘he’s alive,’ she points out, and then, ‘wait—’

that piece of paper wasn’t there a second ago, was it? she turns it over to find lines with street names, and a big X in the middle.

‘lemme see that,’ steve says, snatching the paper from her. he bursts out laughing, and max shoves him out of the way to read the writing at the bottom of the page.

you’re both useless, it says, don’t show up without beer.

#harringrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #billy hargrove #anyone who points out a kind of magic wasnt released until '86 will be blocked on sight btw <3 #my stuff

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Photograph by Guido Harari.

* * *

"Lou was sick for the last couple of years, first from treatments of interferon, a vile but sometimes effective series of injections that treats hepatitis C and comes with lots of nasty side effects. Then he developed liver cancer, topped off with advancing diabetes. We got good at hospitals. He learned everything about the diseases, and treatments. He kept doing tai chi every day for two hours, plus photography, books, recordings, his radio show with Hal Willner and many other projects. He loved his friends, and called, texted, e-mailed when he couldn’t be with them. We tried to understand and apply things our teacher Mingyur Rinpoche said – especially hard ones like, 'You need to try to master the ability to feel sad without actually being sad.'

"Last spring, at the last minute, he received a liver transplant, which seemed to work perfectly, and he almost instantly regained his health and energy. Then that, too, began to fail, and there was no way out. But when the doctor said, 'That’s it. We have no more options,' the only part of that Lou heard was 'options' – he didn’t give up until the last half-hour of his life, when he suddenly accepted it – all at once and completely. We were at home – I’d gotten him out of the hospital a few days before – and even though he was extremely weak, he insisted on going out into the bright morning light.

"As meditators, we had prepared for this – how to move the energy up from the belly and into the heart and out through the head. I have never seen an expression as full of wonder as Lou’s as he died. His hands were doing the water-flowing 21-form of tai chi. His eyes were wide open. I was holding in my arms the person I loved the most in the world, and talking to him as he died. His heart stopped. He wasn’t afraid. I had gotten to walk with him to the end of the world. Life – so beautiful, painful and dazzling – does not get better than that. And death? I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.

"At the moment, I have only the greatest happiness and I am so proud of the way he lived and died, of his incredible power and grace.

"I’m sure he will come to me in my dreams and will seem to be alive again. And I am suddenly standing here by myself stunned and grateful. How strange, exciting and miraculous that we can change each other so much, love each other so much through our words and music and our real lives.--Laurie Anderson on Lou Reed for Rolling Stone, November 6, 2013.

According to Will Hermes, in his biography "Lou Reed: The King of New York," Reed's final words to Laurie Anderson were “Take me into the light.”

[Follies Of God]

#Follies of God #Laurie Anderson #stories #love #dreams #Lou Reed: The King of New york #into the light #memory #remembrance

[comfort-questing]

5. debris/pinned down

"so we don't know for sure."

that was all Diluc could say, through the tightness in his throat, his voice hoarse with the effort of keeping it steady.

"no. but... it's been hours."

"you let him go into an unstable domain, alone."

"not alone." Jean's hands were white-knuckled in front of her on the desk. "and as if I could stop him anyway... Mika's with him. and assumedly - I hope - Albedo, when they find him."

"Mika is a child."

"Mika's older than you were, when you were first a Knight."

and see where that got me, Diluc almost said, but bit his tongue instead.

"we can hope," Jean was saying. "there's time. I've sent Amber out to look, and she hasn't reported back yet. but - I owed it to you, to tell you."

there was so much he could have said, but none of it reached his mouth. only, numbly: "thank you." and then, "where?"

-

Mika knew two things, before his eyes opened: that according to the cold fresh air and night-damp grass of Mond's hills now brushing his skin, he had escaped the domain in time; and that from the ominous silence around him, he might have been the only one who had.

he rolled over and got up on his elbows, blinking into the wide darkness of the evening. the fallen stones behind him, tumbled beneath the stars, were the only remnants of the domain that he could see. he could already feel the bruises blooming on his elbows and knees and shoulders where he had landed, flinging himself out of the dizzying spin of the pocket realm as it crumbled.

then white, and gold, and the sound of shifting rocks.

"that was very unpleasant," said Albedo, crisply, Geo shield dissolving into shivering shards as he scrambled free of the debris. "I really regret - " then, abruptly, as his flat gaze shifted back and forth, "where is the Cavalry Captain?"

"I don't know." hearing it asked was enough to set his heart pounding, glad as he was that Albedo at least was safe. "let's - let's look - "

his map-book swung heavy at his side as he skirted the ruined stones, careful not to touch any for fear of dislodging them. the torch he struck flared into sudden brightness, more golden than the Geo blooms Albedo was releasing even then.

"Captain Kaeya! can you hear us?"

no answer. it was hard to expect one, really, a dull feeling of fear settling deep in Mika's stomach as he knelt to help Albedo with the rubble in front of them. The alchemist's impassive face showed nothing, as usual, but the desperate speed of his hands belied the emotion underneath.

it was the cloak they spotted first, a stained bit of white visible in the torchlight as together they shifted one leaning slab of stone off another. the smaller pieces moved more easily, Albedo waving Mika back: "we'll need your healing ready, Surveyor."

the cold taste of Cryo as he breathed in, the brush as it were of invisible feathers against his skin; Mika gritted his teeth, waiting. Albedo's sigh, the skitter and grating of stone, the call of a night bird somewhere below in the Whispering Woods - and then someone coughing, harsh and terrible, and Albedo beckoning him forward again -

he'd seen injured folk before, of course. but still his breath caught for an instant, as he knelt hands-and-knees in the rubble with Captain Kaeya's limp body still half-buried in the rocks next to him. the Captain's one visible eye was shut, his lips parted in his bruised face, blood flecking the dirty folds of his cloak as he coughed. the angle of his shoulder and arm were - not right, to put it mildly, and the rattle of his breathing made Mika's own chest ache in frightened sympathy.

but Captain Kaeya was depending on him, so he reached out, letting the power of his Vision move between his shaky fingers in feathery tendrils of cold, and the faint scent of wolfhook somewhere in the back of his nose.

you don't have to solve everything, just stabilize, stabilize and triage... Jean's words to him, ages ago, when he'd first started drawing maps for the Knights, before any title or Vision had come to him. when it had only been his own hands and the gauze and bandages he kept next to the spare quills in his satchel.

Captain Kaeya's next gasp caught sharply, and the fit of coughing that followed brought up fresh blood, but the following inward breath sounded clearer. His tawny skin had a shocky gray undertone to it in the torchlight.

"there now," Albedo was saying, "don't move, Captain."

"if Jean doesn't kill me for taking risks like this," Kaeya said, indistinctly through bloodied lips, "my brother surely shall. ow."

Mika had to bite his tongue to stop an unexpected bubble of laughter, then, in a mix of relief and nerves.

"we'll have you home as soon as we can, then, and see who gets the chance," said Albedo.

#whump #hurt comfort #genshin whump #this may get a part 2 #crow writes a thing #whumptober day 5 #whumptober 2023

[clavissionary-position]

Chevalier x Reader, For Whom We Endure

tags: fluff, mentions of stomach pain updated july 24, 2023

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

He calls your name in the twilit garden and it cuts clear across the calm of one thousand roses, here in this sanctuary of your shared silence and, today, your quiet agony.

Without a thought you sneak one lungful of rosy air through your nose and hold your breath. Your book shuts with a soft snick and your best smile weaves across your dry lips. You look to your lover and pinch off three calculated words. Two words. Two words and one gift. "Yes, Prince Chevalier?"

Eyes like a frozen lake, and you plunge and suddenly thoughts rush your mind. Palpating. Like birds on a shore, like wings in the sky. Beating. Soaring. That surreal feeling of being here and of seeing yourself being here. The garden, the garden bench, two people and Chevalier's blue eyes. The breath he steals from you without so much as a smile or a kiss. All because your eyes meet. But if you're honest, it started when he said your name.

This moment could easily fall between a prince and his subject, a knight and his charge, a beautiful creature and his admirer. A beast and his prey. This moment, instead, is Chevalier's arm around your shoulder, his own book falling shut in your hazy periphery, and the gaze that won't let you go.

A breeze dances past and lifts the ends of his bangs, bouncing them between his cheek and fur collar. A single rose petal lands on your forearm and takes off with the next updraft. If you hold your breath for any longer, you’ll pass out.

Ah, but at least your stomach-pain doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Chevalier lets out a sigh before setting his book down on the other side of the bench. "I thought I'd give you time to tell me of your own accord, but clearly I continue to underestimate your stubbornness."

Your smile drops as you deflate. "You noticed?" You feel quite the simpleton for even asking.

Twilight mixes in with the roses in the garden. As beautiful as the sight is, as beautiful as the man embedded within it is, you’re unable to fully enjoy any of it in your present state. 

Chevalier's stare is less than forgiving.

"Irregular breathing, constant deglutition—gulping—protracted squirming. Either I've courted an actual fish out of water, or you've had the privilege of eating something suspect." He jabs your forehead before you can get a word in. "I do not know for whom you're enduring, but it goes without saying that your behavior is childish."

You release your breath as another wave of nausea rocks through you. Your head throbs, and not just where he's poked you. "I didn't want to—"

"There are 365 days in a year."

You frown. "...?"

Chevalier's expression remains blank for a moment before he betrays the faintest smile. "You and I are not so busy that a date cannot be rescheduled."

Says the man you’ve scarcely seen since construction of the embassy began.

"You are that busy though—” 

“Subjective.” 

Your headache mounts. "Our last date was—"

"Three months, two weeks and four days ago."

"Are you going to let me—"

"No."

"Prince Che—"

"I believe I already told you. I gave you ample time to speak, and you voluntarily chose to not take advantage of it."

You are going to hurl any moment now, and a tiny part of you considers—

"I assure you, that would be a terrible idea."

"Prince Chevalier!" You finally scream. Your voice echoes off the quarried stones. The words rush out of you before you can stop yourself. "I feel horrible right now. I feel absolutely terrible, in-fact. I just wanted to be considerate of your time because I know exactly how busy you are. Because even if I do feel like rolling off this bench and vomiting into the flowerbeds, I'm still having a lot of fun just being here with my sadistic—" This time you cut yourself off.

Chevalier's smiling.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.”

"Then you would not have said it.” But there's not a hint of anger in Chevalier’s voice. He almost sounds affectionate. "Only a simpleton could think"—He reaches out to gruffly brush hair from your face. His shapely lips quirk into a small but gentle smile—"that I would not make time."

Suddenly your face is against his back as he casts you over his shoulder and begins marching back toward the palace. 

“Um…?”

“I have two more books I wish to get through tonight.”

His true meaning makes you clench your eyes shut with embarrassment, but that’s when you feel it. The hand stroking your back, almost as if you were a child. The pacing follows no rhythm and hits all the wrong notes. It’s stiff and it’s unsure. It’s quite possibly the one thing you needed the most. 

--- Thank you for reading! inspiration: Awkward Kisses + A Crown For Your King + a zillion other things by aquagirl1978 image credit

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri chevalier #ikepri chevalier x reader #ikepri fluff #atelier writes ikeseries

[rammingthestein]

Excerpt from the "30 Jahre naTo" book

In 1994, Rammstein played their first show in a club called naTo in Leipzig. This was the start of what is now called the club tour.

They played before Flake's brother's band, Acker Selection.

Only 15 people were in the audience, according to some reports.

In a 2019 interview with Rolling Stone Magazine, Flake said, "The first real concert was at naTo in Leipzig , as my brother's opening act. He had a combo that rewritten English songs like “Like a Virgin” into “Wie ein Sausage”. There was no place where we fit in less."

Flake's brother, Peter (nicknamed Auge or eye), drew cartoons based on that evening for the 30 Jahre naTo book, published in 2013.

🔥 sources 🔥

🔥 sources 🔥

#rammstein; #rammstein #might make this into a cute little series documenting notable rammstein gigs #mine; #neue deutsche härte

[lady-griffin]

I’m honestly a bit amazed with Rowling.

In the sense that people have said that her “trolls” need to stop bringing up the “trans issue thing” when it comes to everything Rowling does and how that’s unfair of them, and that one “opinion” of hers doesn’t capture everything about her or what she’s all about.

But yet, Rowling is the one who brings it up every time she can.

According to this Rolling Stone article, in her most recent book, The Ink Black Heart -

She has a character who is a popular YouTube creator whose fans have turn against her and have accused her of racism, ableism, and the dreaded so-called transphobia. The creator is doxxed, subjected to rape and death threats, all for ‘just having an opinion.’

According to this article, they think this book clearly has a specific aim against Social Justice Warrior and it even suggests the character was a victim of a masterfully plotted, politically fueled hate campaign unfairly against her.

I just…

if you don’t want people to focus on the whole “trans thing,” why do you keep bringing it up? Why do you keeping doing shit like this?

I’m not saying, if she never talks about it ever again, people are just going to forget about it (though honestly a lot probably would).

But Rowling seems to be incapable of not talking about it. Of not being enraged by her fans for “turning against her.” Of not being upset about no longer being seen as a progressive woman and beloved author who fights against the tyranny of others. Of not feeling like she’s the victim of all this.

And don’t get me wrong -- being doxxed, receiving rape and death threats is no joke. That is awful. That isn’t okay. That isn’t. Don’t fucking do it.

I just; even when someone is being hateful or bad, and you believe the “deserve it” - In my own personal view, that’s a slippering slope. Yes, things don’t just equate each other and there is nuance and differences in certain areas of life (most of it); but also you’re creating the argument that sometimes it’s okay for this kind of behavior, which might feel ridiculous, but it doesn’t take that many steps of “therefore it’s never a bad thing” or “well, I hate this person and their views, so it’s okay when I do it, but bad when someone does it to someone I think doesn’t deserve it.

Maybe people just don’t deserve to be doxxed, or be sent death or rape threats.

And I don’t know.

Look, I’ll admit it’s hard for me to be sympathetic at the supreme court or Marjorie Taylor-Green for getting doxxed, but I just…

Maybe it’s not about what kind of people that are and what kind of person I want to be or think a good person is.

Just because someone is a bad person doesn’t mean something bad happening to them is justice. I don’t know fucking know. I have mixed feeling about some of this shit, because I don’t think you get to impact real people and their lives with actual laws and public presses and your huge platforms – but then call foul, of your own personal and “real” life being negatively impacted.

But also,  don’t send people death or rape threats. What the fuck. Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.

Why do I have to even say this. Please don’t fucking do it. 

However, not to undercut myself and that last point – which I cannot stress enough is very important and should be yielded to --

Classifying all of this as you being hated and attacked for just having a different opinion…lessens what you’re doing or your own hateful views. Which makes sense, in the fact that you don’t view your own views as hateful or wrong.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t.

But it doesn’t look great for Rowling that, that’s the same argument the alt-right and racist, antisemitic, and overall hateful and prejudiced people make all the time – when there are consequences for their actions.

It’s the idea of -

“How dare people judge me for having the simple harmless opinion that certain people are simply lesser than and therefore don’t deserve the same rights as myself or others. How dare YOU make me seem like a hateful person, when I express my hateful views. You’re the intolerant, hateful person for not tolerating my intolerant hatred of a group that is subjected to large amounts of violence and harm.”

-

Also, and this is really the thing that just leaves me totally flabbergasted. I don’t think I would gone into this nonsensical rant, if not for this.

Apparently, Rowling is claiming that this is not at all, in any shape or form, in response to her own experience nor meant to be seen like that.

Because she wrote and finished the book long before certain things happened online.

She even says she told her husband, that she was worried people were going to see this as a response to what happened to her, even though it absolutely, totally isn’t. Not even slightly.

So, clearly, we know she’s telling the truth - because she’s now currently saying she was a bit worried that, people would get the wrong idea, months and months ago. She just said it privately to her own husband and did nothing to change the plot of her book - despite the fact that I find it hard to believe that the big, famous author JK Rowling wouldn’t have the power to do so. 

And it’s like really? Really Rowling?

I mean come on.

Sure, sometimes in life things happen in a way where it looks bad or that two things that are legit unrelated looked to be connected or caused by one another. And that’s simply not the case.

Sometimes, it is all just a bad coincidence or awkward timing; but I can’t believe that’s the case here.

I just can’t.

I mean come on, Rowling.

I mean seriously…

How stupid do you think people are?

I just…

I don’t understand the logic behind that. 

A part of me feels or questions how someone could write a character like that and then say it has nothing to do with what they’ve gone through, despite it literally being more or less your own story, but framed with how view the situations and tweaked so the self-insert character is made to be the clear victim. 

I can’t help but think, maybe that means she isn’t lying. Because surely, she wouldn’t think people are that stupid. Surely not.

But, honestly nowadays people do lie nonstop about things we know to be lies.

They can just claim it’s “fake news” or haters being haters and their fans and defenders will stand by them. Because it’s not about what they say or are doing, it’s about defending them (and to be fair, for some, it’s also just about attacking).

I mean -

A couple who are currently defending themselves against being called racist or having racist views, had a press conference where they stated they are absolutely not racist and would never be racist, and have never held such beliefs and to call them racist, is the other person, trying to obscure the real issue at hand or whatever.

But in that exact same press conference, the wife admitted to having a secret, racist twitter account. But that doesn’t mean she’s racist or anything, because all she wanted to do was explore the freedom of being someone she’s not.

She’s totally not racist person, she just wanted to be able to be a racist person online, but that doesn’t mean she has ever held racist views....

(my head hurts)

Blake Masters in Arizona is claiming he’s never had strong, hateful views on abortion and you can check his website if you want to. As though his campaign didn’t change it. As though there aren’t interviews or recordings of him saying all that hateful awful shit.

--

In the end

I think Rowling wants attention, the publicity, and for the people who still defend her, to have something else to defend her on.

Or maybe, just maybe, no one would have cared about her new book, if not for this controversy, that is just oh so inconvenient for her.

I mean truly it’s so inconvenient that there are now a bunch of articles about her new book. I mean, I now know she has a new book out and even the name of it, despite not knowing that two days ago. And look, now you do to because of this post.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s also because a lot of these books haven’t been all that well-received or reviewed. 

There has been a lot of good things said about them. But also, when it was actually not known she was the author of the books, for those first few months (I might be wrong about that) - only 1500 copies were sold.

Which I don’t know if that’s good or bad for a brand-new spanking author who is coming out with their debut novel/series; but I do know that’s bad for someone like JK Rowling, even if she’s not going by her own name.

And isn’t it so interesting and such a true shame, that an anonymous tip let it out that she was the author.

That, Times arts editor Richard Brook, who decided to investigate this mysterious author, because he just had to know who they were really were and whether or not it was JK Rowling or not, apparently, he himself said 

‘Nobody who was in the Army and now works in civilian security could write a book as good as this,’”

Isn’t that such a great review for a book series you’ve never heard of, that doesn’t sound like a review or a promotion. Just an honest to god opinion.

And look maybe he did really say or think that - and if he wasn’t part of this whole thing (I don’t know if he was and I’m too lazy to look it up), let’s be real he wanted to investigate because it was JK Rowling who was said to be the author. Not because the book series was so amazing, he just had to know who it was.

Because her name has clout. Because her name is a brand at this point. 

That even when she says she didn’t want these books of hers to be part of that brand, that brand also gives her a lot of benefit of the doubt and high-praiseful reviews. 

And look, I loved the Harry Potter books growing up. I adored this series, for so many years. I reread the fourth book so many goddamn times, my parents had to take it away from me so I would do my actual homework. 

And look JK Rowling built that brand up, with no name recognition beforehand. 

So, I’m not going to say she’s not a good author or I don’t think she’s not capable of writing good stories. 

But, also - maybe she thought she would get that same recognition for her writing alone with her name unattached to it and when it didn’t happen, or in the short time she thought it would, she let it spill she was the author. 

And look this is all coming from a Vox article I just read from 2018 (x).

They themselves admit they didn’t like JK Rowling’s first adventures into mature, adult writing. But they felt the same passion and love for this new series as they did feel for Harry Potter from Rowling.

Which doesn’t really tell me if the series is good or not. But I don’t think this person in 2018, hated the series like they did for first mature-adult book she had out in 2015; but I also don’t know if they truly think the series is that amazing on its own.

And this again, is all back in 2018. 

All of this stuff really started to happen or honestly blew up in 2020.

2020 is when she started to get a lot of criticisms for these new books.

Part of it, probably was because some people feel like it’s okay to critique the great JK Rowling and they won’t receive backlash for doing such a thing, or some people never liked her so they were more than happy to jump on the train that is finally (from their POV) starting after they’ve waited for years for others to catch on, and some just want to hate her to hate her. 

And some probably didn’t like the series, because they didn’t like it or think it was good.

--

Maybe, just maybe because this book hasn’t been well reviewed and because people are rolling their eyes at this self-insert character and it’s part of their bad reviews –

JK Rowling wants to be able to say her haters are making it look like she wrote a bad book, because they don’t agree with her on this minor issue and how it’s unfair, she’s being judged nonstop for this one-opinion.

And it’s just oh so unfair that people keep bringing this whole “trans issue,” even when it has nothing to do with the current subject at hand – like her most recent book, where she literally has a self-insert character (or one that absolutely looks like that), who is unfairly and brutally murdered after they’ve gone through a massive hate campaign where they were accused of racist, ableist, and transphobic views.

I just...

I don’t even know what to tag this and I’m too tired to review or grammar check this.

--

Basically, I think JK Rowling has put herself in a corner, where she can’t get out of it. Or at least not without seriously reflecting on her own actions and facing the reality of the situation and her own hateful view.

Because the tactic of not talking about this stuff didn’t help (which she did for like a hot second) And I have to imagine she did feel trapped and cornered, so she dug in her heels and started to fight back. She didn’t like being called bigoted so she fought against that, because that’s easier than actually wondering or even admitting you have bigoted views.

I think it would be hard for someone who has been so widely adored and praised like she has - to genuinely adjust to such a large backlash. 

I do think JK Rowling believe she is standing up for women’s rights. The real ones, not those men pretending to be women (as she would say)

And is surprised to find, that people find that to be insulting or not the current way people feel about it. Because what was once progressive 20 years ago, isn’t considered progressive nowadays. 

For instance, saying gay people should be allowed to marry the person they love, even if they are of the same gender or sex - isn’t the radical position anymore. It’s really the normal one.

And that’s good. Right? I feel like that’s good.

We want, what once were thought to be radical opinions, such bold and progressive ideas, and to look back and be like...why the fuck was that radical? Why was this ever an issue? 

And yes, there can be a problem with not knowing your history. 

The best example because of how recent it is in the grand scheme things of things and shows how quickly people forget. Is that we shouldn’t be mad at The Legend of Korra for ending way it did and try to say it was only putting the airs of being progressive without being progressive. And instead keep in mind, that was progressive. That was amazing for so many people.

That’s how bad things were. Two female characters and their relationship being only confirmed by what feels like nothing by today’s standards - was radical and amazing for so many people, because they’ve never seen that on screen before. They never felt seen before.

And because of that, other shows were able to build on top of that more and more.

Basically...

I think JK Rowling has reacted in a very reactionary way and just keeps digging a hole for herself. 

I don’t think this is easy thing to do; but I always imagined if I did ever publish any of my stories and they became as big as hers. And then people pointed out problems, I hope that I will be able to be like - I thought of the problems I was aware of at the time and I’m glad you found fault in ways I never considered before. I hope you can still appreciate my work, but when you write your own story - do better than me.

Take what you saw as a problem and address it and make it so it doesn’t exist for the next great series. 

I don’t think that’s an easy thing to do, especially if you feel like you’re being unfairly attacked (not saying she was or wasn’t), but I can see why she would feel like that. 

I don’t know. 

Will and Grace can feel very reductive nowadays, but it was such a big and radical thing at the time. Showing gay people as people. As main characters. Yes, there are a lot of jokes with Jack and how he acts, but also - him being gay, is and isn’t the joke. 

Because Will being gay or being attracted to men, is no more the joke then when Grace is attracted to a guy and wants to date one.

The creator of the show has talked about how one of the ways they got the show to be aired and so well-liked, was because, despite Will being gay, there was a desire for many, for him and Grace to end up together.

the man basically straight-baited people before queer-baiting became a popular term. Kudos to him.

But that’s what he had to do, to get a tv show where they had the radical opinion that gay people were people, and worthy of being the main character and not the butt of the joke or the story for the straight person to learn about themselves.

At the end of the day, it’s basic human nature to want to protect yourself. See yourself as the hero or victim, never the villain.

I think it’s an admirable skill to be able look at oneself and seriously ask - am I in the wrong? Am I the one with the hateful view?

And look, I don’t think people ever think of themselves as the one who has the hateful or wrong view even when they know it is a hateful thing.

In a weird and very fucked up way and I shouldn’t write this, kudos (But not actually) to the people who are openly hateful instead of pretending they’re not. I guess?

Am I praising outright bigoted people, for just being honest about being bigoted?

Is that where this post landed. That can’t be right.

Don’t be bigoted.

You’re not a good person because you’re honest about being a hateful person; but at the very fucking least (and I’m scrapping the bottom of the barrel here, for like an ounce of gunk that can be seen as a good thing) at the very fucking least - you are self-aware enough to be open about that.

Why am do I keep praising people for being openly bigoted and not lying about it?

Why is that where I keep ending up.

I have a headache, I’ve barely eaten today, I’ve spent 5 hours actually getting real writing done and this was supposed to be a quick rant and I’m tired. 

I seriously have lost my point. I’m not going to edit this or read it through.

I just… I don’t fucking know.

If you’ve read up this point, why? jesus christ why? I’m writing this am aware of what a mess this is at the moment I’m writing it. 

My point is.

It’s not easy for anyone to admit when they’re wrong. Especially not to such a huge public audience and to be fair, to JK Rowling even if she had seriously admitted she was wrong and reflected on her actions - I don’t doubt that some people wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t have been enough for them.

However, just because some may have reacted like that, is not an excuse. 

I think what JK Rowling is doing is very human, but that doesn’t mean it’s good in the slightest. basically, she’s digging in her heels and refusing to admit she’s wrong and the more she fights this, that harder it will be for her to admit she was wrong and the less likely she ever will.

The more we commit and fight back, the harder it is to stop and breathe and actually think let alone finally admit, we were the asshole, or the villain.

So, she’s going with it at this point. I don’t know how much of that is a choice, as in how much she’s aware that’s even what she’s doing. But the amount of disconnect she would have to have to apparently write the character that exists in her new novel which I have not read so I can’t say how much of a self-insert it really is and not what she’s done, is honestly frightening.

Look people can make mistakes and people can unfairly pile onto someone - look at how with think of Monica Lewinsky today.

I just...

It’s not easy to look at yourself and admit your wrong, but if being a good person was just about doing the easy thing of not doing bad or hurtful things, we would all be good people.

And JK Rowling isn’t even doing that. She isn’t even doing the bare minimum of not being an asshole.

I don’t know I’m disappointed. All my feelings for her, I feel disappointed in the end. I want to scream and shout, because I know JK Rowling is capable of looking at something and saying this isn’t right and we need to and can do fucking better.

But she refuses to do that anymore, because well - I don’t know, maybe just a certain amount of wealth, fame and praise fucks with your brain. You’re still you and you still think you’re a good person, and you thought yourself a good person when you were doing good things and so what has changed.

Have you changed?

Are you no longer a good person, or is the world wrong?

Sure, I wish she never had certain views in the first place.

But I honestly wish, she had stopped and thought - maybe I’m the one in the wrong. Maybe what I once thought of being radical or progressive things, aren’t anymore and while I shouldn’t get hated for having what were once considered radical or very progressive views for the time – or that I wasn’t even aware of problems being problems, because they were talked about in the sphere I existed in –

the fact that I still think that’s where the bar is, instead of realizing that’s become the norm - is a reflection on myself and how I need to grow and change. 

Okay I’m going to cry, this was supposed to be a page and it’s …a million.

And I have such a headache and this was suppose to be like an obnoxiously long paragraph not this.

#JK Rowling #Anti Jk Rowling #long post #rant #Maybe not Anti JK Rowling for the sake of being anti JK ROWLING #just anti whatever the fuck this is #confused by whatever the fuck this #tired of whatever this is

[justforbooks]

Thank Christ for the Bomb (1970) was the third album by blues-rockers the Groundhogs, and the first of a trio of releases that reached the UK Top 10. For some connoisseurs, it is an all-time classic and proof of the brilliance of Tony McPhee, the band’s songwriter and guitarist who has died aged 79.

According to Luke Haines, formerly of the Auteurs, Thank Christ … is “a kind of concept album, a psychedelic, very heavy CND album full of class war. The album is a scorched earth manifesto.” The Damned’s Captain Sensible contended that “Tony McPhee … was the British Hendrix”.

The Groundhogs had emerged from the British blues boom of the mid-1960s, and as the 70s dawned they embraced the expansive, exploratory spirit of the era. A performance at the 1970 Isle of Wight festival affirmed their growing status.

The follow-up to Thank Christ was Split (1971), which climbed to No 5 and found McPhee wrestling with ideas around split personality and loss of self. “I went through a stage of split personality myself and in the lyrics I try to explain what it is like – a very deep, traumatic experience,” he revealed. “One moment you feel all right, the next you don’t know who you are.” The album included the frantic, heavy-metal stomp of Cherry Red, which got the band on to the BBC’s Top of the Pops.

In 1971 they supported the Rolling Stones on their British tour, during which they recorded the limited-edition live album Live at Leeds ’71. The following year they were high in the British charts again with Who Will Save the World? The Mighty Groundhogs, but that year also saw the replacement of drummer Ken Pustelnik with Clive Brooks. The next album, Hogwash (1972), had many admirers but marked the end of the band’s commercial hot streak. Their progress stalled amid a string of lineup changes and regular disbandments. They made their last chart appearance with Solid, which reached No 31 in 1974.

Born in Humberston, Lincolnshire, Tony was the son of Charles McPhee, a telegraphist in the Royal Navy and then a civil servant in the Ministry of Defence, and Eileen (nee Harrison). The family moved to south London when Tony was one, and he later attended Tooting Bec grammar school. He developed an early enthusiasm for the blues when his brother took home imported LPs of American blues artists. “It was then that I first heard this raw stuff and my ears pricked up,” he told Classic Rock magazine.

Another formative influence on him was the British blues harmonica player Cyril Davies (who would die in 1964 aged 31). “I used to go and see him at the Marquee Club,” said McPhee. “Somebody said something about this R&B band and they were there every Thursday and they were just magic.”

The Groundhogs came into being after McPhee, who had been fronting his own group, the Seneschals, joined the Dollar Bills in 1962. This was an outfit formed in New Cross, south-east London, by brothers Pete and John Cruickshank. McPhee pushed the band into a more blues-influenced direction, as he explained: “We went into R&B and then into blues very deeply – to the extent that I spent most of my time delving into books and records to find material which hadn’t been done by any of the other English bands.”

They named themselves after John Lee Hooker’s song Ground Hog Blues, and in 1964 they temporarily renamed themselves John Lee’s Groundhogs when they backed Hooker on a UK tour, after John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers dropped out. Hooker liked the band so much he recruited them to play on his album … And Seven Nights (1966, later reissued as Hooker and the Hogs) and teamed up with them again for his 1965 British tour.

Hooker’s endorsement was a powerful calling card and the band found themselves in demand, also backing Little Walter, Champion Jack Dupree and Jimmy Reed when they toured Britain. Both McPhee and Eric Clapton appeared on Dupree’s album From New Orleans to Chicago (1966). When Clapton left Mayall’s band in 1965, McPhee was asked to join but declined.

The Groundhogs split in 1966, after which McPhee played with John Cruickshank in Herbal Mixture and spent a brief spell with the John Dummer Blues Band, but in 1968 a new Groundhogs rose from the ashes. McPhee was joined by Pete Cruickshank on bass and Pustelnik on drums, plus Steve Rye on harmonica and vocals. At the end of the year they released their first album under a deal with Liberty Records, Scratching the Surface. The follow-up, Blues Obituary, appeared the following year, now without Rye. The trio’s dynamic, freewheeling playing placed the Groundhogs alongside such progressively inclined blues practitioners as Ten Years After and Led Zeppelin.

McPhee saw the album as a turning point, the moment when the Groundhogs stopped being just a blues band. “I like to call it progressive in the sense that we were progressing away from the blues,” was his assessment. The stage was set for their breakthrough with Thank Christ for the Bomb.

McPhee released five solo albums, the last of them being Bleaching the Blues (1997). His solo debut, The Two Sides of TS McPhee (1973; TS stands for “Tough Shit”), was by far the most memorable. The first side was a feast of raw, mostly acoustic blues, while side two comprised the single track The Hunt, where McPhee recited an anti-foxhunting narrative against a patchwork of experimental synthesizer sounds.

A new Groundhogs lineup released the albums Crosscut Saw and Black Diamond in 1976, and McPhee led two different versions of the band during the 90s. In 2003 the McPhee/Pustelnik/Cruickshank lineup reformed for some 40th-anniversary shows, after which McPhee performed with various players as Tony McPhee’s Groundhogs, while Cruickshank and Pustelnik formed the Groundhogs Rhythm Section with assorted additional musicians. McPhee also performed with David Tibet’s “apocalyptic folk” outfit Current 93, and with the vocalist Joanna Deacon, whom McPhee married in 2008. In 2014, he retired Tony McPhee’s Groundhogs.

He was married twice before, to Christine Payne, with whom he had a son, Conan, and Susan Harrison, with whom he had a son, Vincent. Both marriages ended in divorce. Joanna survives him, as do his children, two grandchildren, Scarlett and Victor, and his sister Olive.

🔔 Tony (Anthony Charles) McPhee, musician and songwriter, born 23 March 1944; died 6 June 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Tony McPhee #in memoriam

[omg-hellgirl]

can you talk more about the power struggle between Mick and Brian? Especially when that dynamic shifted? And what do you think Keith's role in this was (do you agree with Marianne abt whoever allied with Keith had the power in the band?)

*UPDATE 03/16/2024: Read until the end for updates on my reading.*

Well, it's important to highlight that as some like to point out, it may all be just "gossip", so you choose what to believe. I'm merely reposting what I DID read. I'm not taking the book I use as a reference as a bible and I'm not saying that EVERYTHING happened exactly that way, so if anyone has a complaint, it's NOT my fault (I didn't write the damn book) and I don't care.

I plan to buy Keith Richards' autobiography to read and then consolidate some of my opinions and discover things that differ from stories told out there. Until then, most of what I know and think comes from others.

According to Christopher P Andersen's book, Mick: The Wild Life and Mad Genius of Jagger, Mick and Brian (who at the time was known as Elmo Lewis) met at a Jazz club in Ealing. He and Keith were impressed by Brian's ability to play guitar and went to talk to him as soon as the show ended.

According to the book, within weeks what would come to be known as The Rolling Stones was formed and that the choice of the name was a deliberate choice by Brian and that initially the other members of the band didn't like the name.

By then, this is set in early 1962 and in addition to Brian, Mick and Keith, two musicians called Dick Taylor and Ian Stewart were also in the band. Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts would come later, respectively.

Despite gathering a respectable amount of audience, Mick was not committed to the band and was still studying at the London School of Economics. He moved into a two-bedroom apartment at 102 Edith Grove with Keith and Brian (the stories about that apartment, honestly, I was shocked).

It is said that they did not have money to run the electric heater and that all three of them slept together in a double bed to keep warm. For certain types of behavior (not necessarily at bedtime), Mick was called King's road queen by Keith and Brian.

Somehow the narrative begins to explain how Mick began to feel jealous of Brian for stealing Keith from him. While Mick was studying and had classes all day, Keith and Brian were alone in the apartment, rehearsing. When it got cold, Keith and Brian would lie down together to stay warm.

Mick also received an allowance from his parents and had money to eat at restaurants, which he did alone, while Brian and Keith had to "crash neighborhood parties in search of food or break into neighbors’ apartments so they could rifle through dresser drawers looking for‘spare change."

Basically, Brian and Keith were very close and Mick supposedly wanted to break them up (it is also said that Mick realized that Brian was determined to replace him with the singer P. P. Pond). Mick’s attitudes were: Seduced Pat Andrews, the mother of Brian’s son Julian, and Brian himself.

Now, here it gets confusing because it is said that instead of messing with Brian emotionally, it was Mick who was messed with. Although it is not detailed how. It was Anita Pallenberg who spoke about this. She is mentioned as "it was from Brian that Pallenberg learned the details of his relationship with Mick."

“Brian did break up a lot of things by actually going to bed with Mick,” Pallenberg said. “And I think Mick always resented him for having fallen for it. In later years, there have always been rumors about Mick being gay, but then it was as if Brian violated Mick’s privacy by revealing his weak side.”

There is nothing more said about this. It is also said that "While Mick commanded the spotlight, Brian worked tirelessly behind the scenes to land the Stones a record deal. He enlisted the help of his friend Glyn Johns, a recording engineer at IBC Studio, in cutting a five-song demo. When seven record companies rejected it outright, no one was more devastated than the mercurial Mr. Jones."

ALSO

"While Peter Jones listened politely, each repeatedly interrupted the other, making it painfully evident that Mick and Brian were locked in a fierce battle for the title of team leader."

This Peter Jones was a journalist linked to a record company, and that was the impression he had of them. The 1964 interview I captioned shows Brian interrupting Mick as he speaks, it's interesting. They definitely competed.

According to the book, Brian tried to get rid of Mick again when he formed (on behalf of the group, which showed that Brian was at the forefront of things as a leader) a partnership with Andrew Oldham.

Brian Jones handled negotiations for the Stones, and Brian’s first suggestion was that Mick, his archrival in the group, be booted out. Oldham’s business partner, Eric Easton, agreed. “This Jagger fellow,” Easton said, “just can’t sing.” Oldham’s response was swift and unequivocal. “You are both,” he told Brian and Easton, “completely insane.”

The beginning of the end between Keith and Brian and the beginning of the power shift that would be followed by Brian's heavy drug use and lack of commitment to rehearsals and shows was when Brian moved out of the apartment he shared with Keith and Mick to live with his girlfriend Linda Lawrence.

Oldham, acknowledged by Keith to be both “a fantastic hustler” and “an incredible bullshitter,” rushed in to fill the power vacuum created by Brian’s abrupt exit.

Explaining it in detail would make it even longer but basically Brian started using a lot of drugs and missing rehearsals and even concert dates; It got to the point where it was a miracle that he showed up and they no longer counted on Brian's presence at rehearsals.

Not to mention that some shows were sold as “Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones". The one who the fans thought was the leader must have had a direct impact on the dynamics within the group.

Say what you want about Marianne but I think she has a place to speak. I believe she meant that Keith, as the third founder (Bill and Charlie came later and probably didn't have as much say in the decisions at the beginning), the third wheel, had decisive power. If Mick and Brian were at odds, whoever Keith supported had the advantage. So yes, I see logic in the reasoning.

Also, Brian and Keith's relationship naturally began to deteriorate along with Brian and Anita's relationship and Keith's infatuation with the woman. At one point, it also brought him closer to Mick.

I hope this has clarified something for you, XOXO

*If there is something different in Life, Keith's autobiography, which I haven't read yet, I am inclined to believe his direct words more.

UPDATE 03/16/2024: I started reading Keith's autobiography, and there are some disagreements with the information in Christopher P. Andersen's book. I advise, after reading this, to read this.

#mick jagger #marianne faithfull #keith richards #brian jones #the rolling stones #old rockstar #classic rock #blues rock #andrew oldham #anita pallenberg #christopher p andersen #Mick: The Wild Life and Mad Genius of Jagger #book quotes #quotes #60s music #60s era #60s rock #60s #anon ask

[calicocatfancier]

9/20/20 Ben Meiselas, One of the Golden Boys with the MeidasTouch

Ben Meiselas is the co-founder of the MeidasTouch Network (MTN), which he started with his brothers, Brett and Jordan.  The MeidasTouch is responsible for thousands of anti-Trump videos on YouTube and other social media sites.  They have posted over 6,500,000 videos and have over 1.6 million subscribers according to YouTube.

Ben and his brothers promised to always state the truth on their MeidasTouch vids.  In the 11/28/2020 issue of the “Hollywood Reporter,” Brett stated, “We are very careful and put a lot of thought into our messaging and into everything that we create, but we also don’t sit on it for weeks to make sure that everything about it is absolutely perfect. [emphasis added].  We need to be current. We need to be provocative. We need to be truthful and on top of it and continuously get the message out.”

A Google search showed some cracks.

During the December 2020 debate between Rev. Raphael Warnock (D-GA) and Senator Kelly Loeffler (R-GA), a strand of her long hair appeared lighter than other strands.  Her critics claimed that this was proof that she was wearing a wire, and Ben was one of those critics.  He shared this theory with his 100,000+ followers.  The allegation was soon refuted.  

The Meiselas brothers’ transparency took another hit after an interview with Seth Hettena, a freelance writer for the Rolling Stone.  He interviewed the brothers in December 2010, and the article ran in the April 2021 issue.  The headline read, “The Trouble with MeidasTouch,” and the opening continued, “The brothers behind the breakout anti-Trump PAC are the golden boys of the #Resistance, but when ‘Rolling Stone’ took a look beneath the surface, their response turned Trumpian.”  Ouch!

Mr. Hettena continued, “The group spent more than $1 million on an advertising strategy that it calls revolutionary but campaign veterans and independent experts say is nonsensical and a more effective tool for fundraising than for helping Democrats win elections. And despite its promised transparency, MeidasTouch’s financial structure makes a dollar-for-dollar accounting of its spending impossible — and, according to a former Federal Election Commission attorney, raises some of the same legal issues that got the Trump campaign into trouble in 2020.”  That had to hurt. 

The brothers made the declaration that they had supported Democratic nominees with their money.  Mr. Hettena made the distinction that MeidasTouch were using other people’s money, not their own. 

The brothers used their platform to protest Mr. Hettena’s article in a 40-minute rant.  Among other statements, Ben declared that he doesn’t earn a salary for his work on MeidasTouch and that he has also shut down a significant portion of his law practice since Covid started.  He described Mr. Hettena as a hack freelance who wants to write a journalistic hit piece on them because of their SuperPAC status.  

Is Seth Hettena really a hack?  To find out, I did a background check on the investigative journalist.  A Google Scholar search yielded many links.  I learned that he wrote two books: Trump/Russia: A Definitive History, which documented the two world leaders’ history together.  Jane Mayer, author of “The New York Times’bestseller, Dark Money, wrote "Hettena is a first-rate reporter and wonderful story-teller, and the tale he tells here is mind-boggling.”   

Hettena clearly supports the anti-Trump rhetoric created by the Meiselas brothers, but he has a problem with their SuperPac status.  For starters, the reporter stated that after the brothers declared a six-figure advertising airtime buy, a search of invoices TV stations filed with the Federal Communications Commission shows the group spent less than $80,000 worth of donor money.

I don’t share Ben Meiselas’s opinion that Seth Hettena is a political hack.  He has written two well-received books and was endorsed by a New York Times columnist.  In addition to The Rolling Stone, Mr. Hettena has written for other reputable journals like The New Republic, and he is currently working on an expose of the CIA and Navy Seals in Iraq.  Mr. Hettena applauds the MeidasTouch Network for the good that they do.  His problem is with SuperPacs in general, an opinion he shares with many others.  The Brennan Center for Justice outlined those concerns on their website. as documented in their blog “10 Years of Super PACs Show Courts Were Wrong on Corruption Risks.

The MeidasTouch continues to air hundreds of videos per month.  The ex-president is less of a focal point in these videos as the brothers have targeted other far right Republicans as well.

As the saying goes, nobody is perfect, which clearly applies to the Meiselas brothers.  But I applaud their efforts trying to keep our nation intact.

#Ben Meiselas #Seth Henneta #MeidasTouch Network #Rolling Stone #SuperPACS

[honoka-marierose]

For those who grew up in the 2000s, waiting for the next Harry Potter film installment was a thrilling and unifying experience. As kids all around the world flocked to their local theaters with wands in hand, Harry and his fantastical friends reminded us of the magical powers of friendship, bravery, and love. While the movies got progressively darker as the characters grew up and had to battle ever-looming forces of evil, the first films remain pillars of delightful, whimsical escapism — save for the near-deaths of multiple twelve-year-olds — and this is largely thanks to director Chris Columbus. What many people don’t know, however, is that Columbus passed on another once-in-a-lifetime directorial opportunity for Potter, turning down the Spider-Man franchise in favor of the wizarding world.

Chris Columbus Chose To Direct 'Harry Potter' Over 'Spider-Man’

Known for writing and/or directing hit movies like The Goonies, Home Alone, and Mrs. Doubtfire, by the time the early aughts rolled around, Columbus was no stranger to working with kids and yielding great results. Having been persuaded by his daughter to read the Harry Potter books (at which time only the first three had been released), Columbus immediately had a vision for the films and wanted a shot at directing the now-iconic series. According to The Hollywood Reporter, after hearing that there were many others eager to helm the franchise, Columbus requested that his agent secure him the final meeting with the film’s executives. He presented a “130-page document-slash-screenplay” outlining his vision for the movie, and long story short, the powers that be were very impressed with the eager director. Columbus secured the gig and went on to direct both Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

However, Columbus revealed in an interview with Screen Rant that right after he landed Harry Potter, he got the offer to direct Spider-Man. Having grown up a huge Marvel fan and citing Spider-Man as one of his childhood heroes, getting the chance to re-introduce the web-slinger to the silver screen seems like it would be a no-brainer for Columbus. Nevertheless, while he acknowledged that directing Spider-Man would probably be the realization of a lifelong dream, he went with Harry Potter and never looked back. Sam Raimi was hired to captain the Spidey ship, and the rest is history. Even though it was undoubtedly a tough call, Columbus has no regrets, and said in the special Harry Potter 20th Anniversary: Return to Hogwarts that working on Harry Potter was “the greatest experience of [his] life.”

Columbus Expertly Captured the Joy and Whimsy of ‘Harry Potter’

While it couldn’t have been easy missing out on Spider-Man, there’s no denying that Chris Columbus was the right man to direct the first two Harry Potter films. In Return to Hogwarts, Columbus got to reunite with Harry Potter himself (Daniel Radcliffe), and the two discussed their work on Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets. Although you’d never know it when watching the behind-the-scenes footage, Columbus confessed to Radcliffe that while working on the first Harry Potter, he was incredibly nervous and felt like he was “dying.” This is definitely understandable given that he was responsible for setting the tone in a massive franchise, but Columbus ensured that his anxieties wouldn’t bleed over and impact the kids on set. Many of the stars of Harry Potter, including Robbie Coltrane, Tom Felton, and of course, the golden trio of Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, and Radcliffe, complimented Columbus’s knack for working with the young performers on set, saying that he made them feel safe and let the kids be kids. While “letting the kids be kids” resulted in a lot of long days and re-shoots given that the kids in question were exploding with excitement at all times, Columbus’s good nature evidently contributed to the youthful, nostalgic feeling that is so well-executed in the first films.

Beyond just his personable directing style, Columbus’s creative eye greatly influenced the look of the Harry Potter movies. From real stone floors to real, lit candles dangling from the ceiling on fishing lines, the director’s commitment to making Hogwarts feel grounded in reality despite the magical elements made the stories feel all the more real to both the actors involved, and the devoted viewers. Despite the success of the first two Harry Potter films, however, Columbus seemed to recognize that all good things must come to an end, and he bequeathed his directorial duties to Alfonso Cuarón for the third installment, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Columbus revealed to The Hollywood Reporter that filming the first two Harry Potter films took upwards of 320 days, and that he felt that he was missing out on watching his kids grow up. He went on to serve as a producer on the third film to help maintain a better work-life balance, but afterward, the director hung up his pointy black wizard’s hat and walked away from the franchise for good.

The Director Isn’t a Fan of the ‘Harry Potter’ Reboot at Max

Harry Potter is soon to be getting a polarizing facelift in the form of a reboot TV series, the likes of which we know very little about. What we do know, however, is that Chris Columbus isn’t a huge fan of the idea, not seeing the point in remaking a franchise that has already been done well (which, as we know, has never stopped the studios before). Furthermore, given author J.K. Rowling’s disappointing tailspin into transphobia, continuing to expand the Harry Potter franchise has brought up difficult but important conversations about just how far we’re willing to go to separate the art from the artist.

While it sucks that a franchise that brought comfort and hope to so many has been marred by its creator’s hateful statements, Columbus’s Harry Potter movies continue to exist as joyful celebrations of friendship and resilience. For many fans, Harry Potter still offers an unparalleled escape from the hardships of the everyday muggle existence, and we’ll always be grateful that Columbus decided to leave the Spider-Man movies to Sam Raimi, who got to forge another iconic film franchise in his own right. While the Harry Potter frenzy shows no signs of stopping, Columbus left his own indelible mark on the franchise, and all we can say is, mischief managed.

#warner bros #harry potter #chris columbus #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #marvel #marvel comics #spider man #spiderman #hogwarts #collider

[thoughtportal]

Emma Silvers May 23, 2018

Liz Phair is getting into character. She’s practicing her moves. She’s doing vocal exercises every night.

“You make these sounds for a really long time, like a monk, to try to get that lower register open,” she says, demonstrating a long, low hum. “Because my range has gotten way higher as I’ve gotten older.”

She’s calling from Los Angeles, a week after her 51st birthday. And the character for whom she’s in training is a 25-year-old version of Liz Phair, the one that released “Exile in Guyville” in 1993, the album that subsequently thrust her into the national spotlight — despite the fact that she had only played a handful of live shows.

“It was a disaster,” she recalls. “That’s not how you do it! I was already famous before I’d ever played live.”

But Phair needs to channel that person to properly perform that album, she says — which she plans to do for Bay Area fans Friday, June 1, at the Swedish American Hall in San Francisco, as she tours intimate venues in support of the 25th anniversary reissue of “Girly-Sound to Guyville” (Matador), a seven-LP or three-CD box set complete with essays, interviews and remastered rarities. (The first half of the title refers to early Phair demo tapes that were, before now, mostly message board fodder for die-hard fans. This tour marks the first time she’ll perform the tracks live.)

“Exile” was a revelation when it hit the radio in 1993: sensitive and blunt, angry and funny, honest about sex and the alienation of being a creative girl in a guy’s scene. Framed as a wry response to the Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main Street,” it stood in stark contrast to the bro-dominated grunge acts of the era, and quickly landed on critics’ best-of-the-year lists. Meanwhile Phair, a Chicago native and recent Oberlin College grad who had written most of her songs in her bedroom at her parents’ house, became an indie darling overnight.

It was in that spotlight that Phair was taken to task for her lyrics, whose sexual frankness (“I want to be your blowjob queen,” from the sing-songy track “Flower,” was among the most-quoted) barely moves the needle by today’s pop music standards. But in the ’90s, says Phair, “You were still judged according to the Slut-O-Meter.”

“I wanted it to be so outrageous and over the top that you had to talk about whether I could say it or not,” says Phair, whose penchant for performance art comes across in early interviews. “I wanted men and I wanted to have sex. I had those feelings, and I had those thoughts, so it was really about what you were allowed to exhibit. What you’re given ownership over, even in the real estate of your own inner life.”

In the 25 years since “Exile,” Phair has released five full-length albums, some to acclaim, and some — like her 2003 self-titled foray into slicker, more radio-friendly pop — to critical derision and cries of “sellout.” She also dabbles in other art forms: after finishing a double album with Ryan Adams recently (release date still to be announced), she turned her attention to a different kind of writing, inking a two-book deal with Random House in 2017. A memoir called “Horror Stories” will be published first; the second, she says, is tentatively organized around the theme of fairy tales.

Regardless of her medium, Phair’s impact and influence have grown more obvious with each passing year, especially as younger generations of feminists discover her landmark debut.

“Dude, I was ahead of my time. What can I say?” she says with a laugh, when asked about how well “Exile” has aged.

It’s 2018, and Beyoncé, whose brand is seeped in sexuality, just gave the performance of her life at age 36 — the same age Phair was when a New York Times review of her self-titled record painted her as a desperate, over-the-hill soccer mom for daring to still be sexual. Does our cultural landscape have more room for women as three-dimensional beings than it did in 1993?

“I do think we’re much further along,” says Phair. “But especially in the last couple years, with the Trump administration, it’s also shocking and deeply disturbing to realize how much further there still is to go.”

Which has, in turn, lit a fire under Phair in other ways.

“I have felt a definite need to be present, vocal and accounted for, because I need to be as strong and loud as these voices that are so horrifying to me,” she says. “We all do. The America that I believe we live in just needs to turn up its volume.”

In the meantime, those who caught Phair live circa 1993 can expect a much more technically skilled performance of “Exile” songs than the last time around. That said, Phair’s biggest strength remains the same: “It’s a testament to people’s appreciation of songwriting,” that fans stuck with her 25 years ago, she says, as she learned to play shows in real time.

“But I think that’s what I do better than other people. I don’t sing better or play better, but I have a kind of authorship. A voice.”

Emma Silvers is a Bay Area freelance writer.

#Liz Phair revives ‘Guyville’ for 25th anniversary #liz phair #1990s music #1990s #article #Exile in Guyville #music #interview #2018

[maribatz-2k]

Day 1: Strange

Max and Kim had the best idea. Which is odd with these two to formulate this kind of idea. Usually it's Nathaniel and Marc who does this kind of thing but here goes nothing.

Confused? Here lets explain. Summer after the most boring freshman year of highschool, Max was sitting at home reading over comic books with Markov instead of programming his latest invention. Well Kim had visited that afternoon and stared at the piles of comics on Max's table. After a couple pondering on what do while his friend just read, Kim decided to join him. Another hour and the pile now relocated to the side of the couch the boys looked bored. Kim looked to Max and then at the comics and back to Max.

"I got it!" He exclaimed.

"Got what?" Max asked, adjusting his glasses confused.

"We need Nathaniel and Marc for this! Oh and Mari and Adrian and Alya and..."

"Get on with it." Max cut him off glaring at him.

"Okay! So hear me out. We go outside dressed up as these comic characters we were just reading about and do a spoof video on them!" Kim stood up excited with his smart plan.

"And why?" Max asked.

"Because! We're so bored! And there isn't anymore comics to read. Plus! I'm sure Marinette would have so much fun also doing the costumes. And! Since ours friends have been separate all summer and will be back next month it be so much fun!" Max thought this over before nodding.

"Alright let's do it! I'll text everyone and see what happens." Kim threw his fist in the air in victory as Max sent a group text to his friends, instantly receiving a screen full of "Hell yeah!" It was set and stone and everyone video chatted the details.

A month later, everyone was at the park setting up the camera, sound system, and a dressing area (courtesy of Mari). Everyone took turns changing into their respective costumes, even mari was dressed up. Everyone stood to around the video camera preparing for the Nino to shout action and Alya made sure to get a group and individual photos.

"Alright everyone! It's time to get ready!" Nino shouted and everyone moved to their designated locations. "And Action." Alya, dressed up as BatWoman, moved into the center followed by Alix who's dressed up as Flash. Alix ran circles around Alya before she stuck her foot out and tripped Flash with a hefty chuckle.

Everyone stepped forward forming two groups for a fight scene. Flash had Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman, Robin, Aquaman, and Cyborg, where Batwoman had Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Black Canary, Starfire, Raven, and Night Wing. The teams were not exactly the same, but oddly enough, it fit according to Max and Nathaniel. As the scene played out and they recorded their fight scene three times (due to people laughing too much), Marc called it for lunch. No one wanted to change so they all just spend the day in their costumes. Marc and Nathaniel were the Riddler and Scarecrow as Nino dressed into his costume the butler of Bruce Wayne. Nino continued to keep his camera rolling as they walked around. Each person went off and did their own crazy things on their way to get food.

Mari walked with Adrien watching everyone goof off and enjoy themselves. Chloe and Sabrina holding hands talking about their vacation, Zoé hung with Luka talking, and Rose was gushing over Juleka's figure in the purple leotard and gold belt. Myléne and Ivan watched as Alix, Kim, and Alya jumped around on anything they could see and run around. Mari was thankful of her friends to have invited her and spend the nice warm day together. Or at least it was, until for some reason the sky was no longer blue but covered in puffy grey clouds and she was no longer standing on the sidewalk but on the roof of a very high building.

"What the hell?"

"Ah not again!" Two loud voices yelled from behind her making her jump out of fright. She turned around to see another teenager dressed just like her completely identical to her costume. That's eerie. The kid stepped forward with an irritated scowl arms crossed over his chest. The man next to him was just an inch or two smaller in width, clad in black and red a black utility belt. With two gold belts crossed and clicked together by a gold circle buckle or button and what looks like...feathers? For a cape. They both worse domino masks that completely covered the eyes.

"Who are you?" The copy cat asked her in a demanding tone. Marinette scowled at the question and crossed her arms in return.

"N'est-ce pas évident. Je suis Robin. Et tu sembles être un fan aussi d'après tes vêtements." She waves her hand at him raising a brow her mask moving with. "C'est pas mal quand même. Celui qui a conçu votre costume est exquis. Ils ont définitivement un bon œil." She stepped forward and moving around the teen inspecting his suit. Lifting the cape to take in the martials. Displeased he ripped the fabric away and practically hissed at her.

"Don't touch me." Robin growled out. Red Robin just watched the interaction curiously as he opened his comms to report in. Without warning, Batman landed down and walked up behind Red with Red Hood freezing up to see a smaller copy of Robin. The kid had short obviously gelled slick raven hair and well, boobs. Batman took a step forward kicking a piece of concrete grabbing both attention of the Robins.

"Ah bon Adrien tu es là!" The female copy said making Hood laughing suddenly. Night wing appeared in the other side of the building with BatWoman completely lost in the sight. The copy turns to look at the new people exclaiming. "Whoa Luka et Alya sont là aussi! Dieu merci, je ne suis pas seul dans cet endroit bizarre." The female let out a sigh of relief. Hood coughs coming back to earth from his fit and took control of the scene.

"Hey little miss. I'm sorry but we do not understand what you are saying." Hood said kneeling down more to her height. Unaware he just sinned.

Marinette looked at the man in the helmet trying understand what he said then realized he spoke English. But then he did the unthinkable. He lowered his 6'2" giant self down to her level making her feel smaller than she was. She pushed him with as much force she could muster and growled watching him fall over onto his ass.

"Don't treat me like a kid you over grown giant! I'm seventeen and average height!" Her french accent apparent. Red Robin (she remembered finally!) and the ones she assumed were Luka and Alya laughed at Hood for "falling." "I'm sorry, from this moment, I assume that I am not back in Paris am I?" She finally asked. Batman shook his head.

"No, you are in Gotham." The copy cat Robin says. After a couple blinks she speaks.

"It's real?!" She moves over to the edge of the building and looks down taking in the sites. "oh merde..." Mari's hands came to cover her face before dragging them down taking her eyes and lips with her.

"Yes Gotham is real, why wouldn't it be?" The real Robin states. With a heavy sigh, Marinette turns around and removes her domino mask to answer.

"Because you guys are in a comic book or books and on TV." She says, deadpanning. This time they blinked.

"Welp, this is strange.." Red Robin said.

@maribatserver

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #MaribatMarch2023