#Pantomime dancers

[jeannepompadour]

Gladys Saqui, Australian-born dancer in the pantomime Aladdin, Grand Theatre, Leeds, Christmas 1907

#dance #dancer #stage costume #theatre #mdptheatre #pantomime #costume #20th century #1900s #britain #20th c. Britain

[kwebtv]

 TV Guide -  February 29 - March 6, 1964

Shirl Conway (born Shirley Elizabeth Crosman, June 13, 1916 – May 7, 2007)  Television and Broadway actress.

She played the role of Liz Thorpe in the CBS drama The Nurses (which ran from 1962 to 1965) for which she was nominated for an Emmy award in 1963 for Outstanding Continued Performance by an Actress in a Series. Other TV credits include Route 66, The Defenders, and Caesar's Hour.  (Wikipedia)

Zina Bianca Bethune (February 17, 1945 – February 12, 2012)  Actress, dancer, and choreographer known for playing "Miss Tuttle" on Father Murphy and "Abigail" on General Hospital

As a child performer, Bethune appeared in several American daytime television dramas, including a stint as the first "Robin Lang" on The Guiding Light from May 1956 to April 1958. 

In October 1958, she portrayed Amy March in the CBS musical adaptation of Little Women. She portrayed nurse Gail Lucas on The Nurses (1962–65), and appeared in other series, including Kraft Television Theatre (with Martin Huston in the series finale), Route 66, The Judy Garland Show, Pantomime Quiz, Hollywood Squares, Young Dr. Malone, Dr. Kildare, Gunsmoke, The Invaders, and Emergency!  (Wikipedia)

#TV Guide #TV #1964 #Shirl Conway #Zina Bethune #The Nurses

[desimonewayland]

Walter Schnackenberg, Ballet und Pantomime, and his muse Lo Hesse a model and dancer at the Berlin State Opera.

Messy Nessy

#costume design #early 20th century #berlin #walter schnackenberg #lo hesse #german art

[gerardpilled]

Yes he was definitely reading Luda!! grant morrison and their wife were in the audience that night too. the passage they read is about Luci (an older, used to be drag queen) taking Luda (a young drag star that Luci is infatuated with) to a sex/kink party. in the part G read out, Luci is teaching Luda about chaos magic and familiars, and a group of people in a pantomime cow costume, high on cocaine, go past them to get to a room “where all the really weird and dirty stuff goes on”. just classic grant morrison weirdness.

this is the bit he read:

"Is it like that? With these words, I turned to face the strange. Jostling through a knot of semi-naked furred and feathered dancers, as if intent on making its presence known, felt, experienced to the full, a nodding, glassy-eyed refugee from the madhouse of the collective unconscious now thrust its remarkable snout. Polka-dotted, rag-tongued, it careened toward us, striking sparks of multicolored stardust from polished hooves."

[princesssarisa]

As I do every December, I've been watching videos of The Nutcracker, and I've been struck by the different ways that different productions cast the roles of the little girl (whom some productions call Marie, others Clara) and the Nutcracker Prince (both his living toy form and his human prince form) are cast.

The casting I grew up with, which seems to be the standard way in American productions, was to cast real children in both roles. A girl and boy between ten and fourteen years old. In these productions they do as much dancing as their beginner status allows, but by necessity they're more pantomime roles than heavy dance roles. In Act 2 they typically just sit and watch the dances in the Land of Sweets, while the principle dancers who perform the pas de deux and subsequent solos are the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier.

Then there's the alternative that seems more popular in Russian and European stagings: to cast adults, with a ballerina in her twenties playing Clara/Marie as a girl in her early teens, and to make them the ballet's principle dancers. In these productions, there typically is no Sugar Plum Fairy or Cavalier. Instead, Clara/Marie and the Prince perform the pas de deux and the solo dances in Act 2.

Then there's the alternative that choreographer Peter Wright used in his production for the Royal Ballet in London. To have the roles played by young adult dancers, and give them more extensive dancing than productions with children do, but to also include the Sugar Plum Fairy and Cavalier as separate characters and to still have the latter two perform the iconic pas de deux and solo dances.

Another choice, which I've only seen done once so far but read that several productions do, is to have children play the roles at first, but then have adult dancers take their place. After the Mouse King's defeat, Drosselmeyer or some other magical power transforms them both, so the child Nutcracker becomes an adult Prince and little Clara/Marie becomes a beautiful maiden. Thus they perform the iconic Act 2 dances, and only when Clara/Marie wakes up at the end does she become a little girl again.

Yet another choice, which I've read about but haven't seen yet, is to cast a child as Clara/Marie but an adult as the Nutcracker Prince, and to include the Sugar Plum Fairy, but have the Nutcracker Prince take the place of her Cavalier. In this casting, the Prince is a kindly older brother figure to little Clara/Marie instead of the traditional crush/love interest, while the Sugar Plum Fairy becomes his romantic partner with whom Clara/Marie helps him to reunite.

I could analyze the pros and cons of each choice in detail, but this post is already long enough. Which casting do you prefer?

#poll #ballet #the nutcracker #casting #dancers #dance #choreography #pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky #nutcracker

[theoutcastrogue]

Spectacles in Constantinople (other than chariot races)

[by Marcus Rautman]

Reconstruction of early Constantinople

Like any great city, Constantinople was a nexus of social space, civic ceremony, commercial entertainment, and endless diversion. Medieval observers saw a busy urban environment where streets and plazas were regularly taken over by processions, churches and monasteries were filled with clergy and worshipers, and competitive games and performances took place in the open-air hippodrome.

The unruly intensity of enthusiastic crowds could also have unforeseen consequences, and on occasion violence and riots flared. John Chrysostom and other guardians of public decorum warned that attending mass spectacles could lead to laughter, immodest and licentious behavior, impulsiveness, and loss of responsible identity. While theatrical shows were generally improvisational, their potential to critique and undermine social order was clear to officials like Justinian (527–65), who suppressed Christological mimes and withdrew funding for their public performance. Some of the most negative views came from bishops attending the late seventh-century Council in Trullo, whose canons discouraged clergy and monks from attending the hippodrome and condemned exhibitions of mimes, wild animals, and public dancing.

Yet other sources make clear that organized spectacles were inseparable from the intensity of city life, with state-sponsored processions, games, and performances growing out of playful, demonstrative interactions experienced every day in street, market, and home.

On stage

Acrobat, musician and dancer, silver cover of a bowl, 12th century (in the Hermitage)

Theatrical entertainments were another popular spectacle inherited from classical times. Roman citizens had long been in the habit of attending public performances and several open-air theaters are known in early Constantinople. Unlike classical drama, stage productions in late antiquity aimed at visual rather than literary appeal, and ranged from choreographed group performances to individual displays of acrobatic and illusionist skill. One of the most elaborate forms of stage performance was pantomime (pantomimos), a ballet-like retelling of familiar mythological tales known in the third century BC. Commanding public stage or private dining room, a single interpretive dancer assumed well-known character roles by wearing distinctive costumes and trappings. The expressive eloquence of non-verbal performance was reinforced by instrumental or sung musical accompaniment.

By contrast, the less decorous antics of mimes and mummers offered broadly comedic diversion in the tradition of burlesque and slapstick. Expressive mime (mimos) performances had an equally long history, with plots drawn from easily recognized, often transgressive aspects of everyday life: family dramas, mistaken identities, infidelities, crime, violence. Requiring no scenery and few props, mimes moved freely from stage to street corners and taverns, delivering lively action supported by flutes, pipes, lyres, singing, and drums. Acrobats and jugglers appear in different media and are mentioned by late medieval authors. The depiction of small, costumed, and sometimes nude figures on carved ivory boxes of the tenth–twelfth centuries suggests the broad parody and implicit social commentary of playful display.

Like other forms of mass entertainment the theater was viewed by authorities with suspicious tolerance. Chrysostom and others saw the manipulative inauthenticity of dramatic roleplaying (hypocrisis) as inherently blasphemous. Naturally the unpredictable and emotional response to public performance contributed to immorality and political subversion. Performers were seen as inhabiting the social margin; foreigners, slaves, and especially women were regarded as morally irresponsible, even as they were invited to play in the palace itself. Prokopios’ overheated account of Theodora’s stage career likely drew on widespread prejudices about the moral fluidity of the entertainment community as much as its enduring popular acclaim.

On the streets

Broad, porticoed streets were among Constantinople’s most characteristic urban features. While major processions stuck to these primary routes, secondary streets in peripheral quarters saw myriad local celebrations. [...]

Streets were busy throughout the day. Carts and wagons kept to the main roads, with porters carrying their loads through uneven, winding alleys. Food vendors, scribes, and moneychangers lined the porticoes, which were good places to meet people and pass time with friends. Keeping passages clear of debris and lit by torches at night was up to shopkeepers, who might briefly expand their domain by setting benches and tables for customers outside their doors. Floor mosaics, graffiti, and game boards carved into the paving of porticoes reflect the attractions of recreational leisure. Observers note the boisterous conviviality of restaurants, taverns, and baths, where acrobats, illusionists, and jugglers shared their talent at close range. Trained bears, birds, and dogs were always reliable attractions. Mime-like performers and storytellers continued to play back streets and tavernas.

— Marcus Rautman, "Entertainment" in The Cambridge companion to Constantinople / edited by Sarah Bassett. Cambridge University Press 2022

#Marcus Rautman #The Cambridge companion to Constantinople #theory #perform #theatre #istanbul #byzantium #acrobatics #jester #the city speaks #dance

[scotianostra]

Angus Wilson Lennie was born on April 18th 1930 in Glasgow.

Many of you of a certain age might remember Angus as Shughie McFee, the chef in Crossroads but others, myself included he will always be remembered as Archibald Ives, 'The Mole' in one of the best ever films, in my opinion, The Great Escape.

Lennie was born and brought up in Shettleston, in Glasgow's East End, where he attended Eastbank Academy he began in show business as a dancer and stand up comedian. He was a song and dance man by the age of 14, performing at the Glasgow Metropole and was then on the variety circuit prior to making the transition into stage acting at Perth Theatre in the late 1940's In 1957, he made his television debut in the Armchair Theatre play The Mortimer Touch.

Two years later, he was cast as the cabin boy Sunny Jim in the BBC Scotland comedy series Para Handy- Master Mariner the first of the Para Handy tales in 1959. Other TV roles through the years included, The Saint Dr Who, Z Cars, Rumpole of the Bailey, Lovejoy, The Onedin Line, All Night Long, Keeping Up Appearances and Monarch of the Glen.

On stage, he appeared in six pantomimes over 10 years with the comedian Stanley Baxter at the King's Theatres in Edinburgh and Glasgow, and toured the Far East with Derek Nimmo's company.

On the big screen as well as The Great Escape he was also in Oh What a Lovely War, 633 Squadron and The V.I.P.s alongside Richard Burton.

Lennie died on 14 September 2014 in Acton, West London, aged 84.

#scotland #scottish #history #actor #theatre #television #cinema

[ask-me-about-therapy]

A Mind's-Eye View

Dear Diary,

Well, it's been yet another one of those delightfully disjointed days where reality decided to take a cappuccino break without me. I swear, one of these days I'll find the negligent barista who keeps unplugging my perspective from consensus reality and put them on a strict drip of decaf.

It all started this morning when I was brushing my teeth, gazing lazily into the mirror's reflection. Suddenly, something seemed…off. Like my face belonged to a vaguely familiar, but distinctly different person entirely. I quirked an eyebrow in that signature way I do and…nothing. No reaction. My facial pantomime skills were being sorely upstaged by an utterly indifferent spectator staring back through the looking glass.

At that point, I figured I must still be aimlessly somnambulating through the gauzy realm of dreamland. So I employed my trusty reality testing checklist: Pinch skin? Check - Felt that sting. Ask Alexa something only I would know? Check - My haunted virtual spirit guide confirmed my deepest persona non grata status. Okay, I was regrettably among the waking world, just…disconnected from the main stage somehow.

By lunchtime, my mind had taken its metaphysical troubeshow on a roving tour. One moment I was chopping veggies, the next my subconscious had astral projected me into observing some stranger's culinary chopping ennui from the foreground. A real out-of-jaw experience, let me tell you. When you're not all there, might as well make like aeball and split, am I right?

At least tonight's dissociative detour came with the upside of some much-needed psychic numbing while navigating my apartment's chaotic blackhole of entropy. Sifting through towers of sentient Point Dexter piled high and aimlessly pondering what plane of existence that shirt-turned-demi-lifeform may have originated from? Just another multidimensional mind shift for the folk over here.

But I've learned not to fight these fugue state fugitives too hard. Like a resigned ballet dancer, I just try to relax into the disassociated flow, appreciating it as a whimsical reprieve from the grounding of unified selfhood. A mental siesta of split perspectives, if you will. Though I could do without the stubborn psychological lMonoglorian rattling to rejoin the singular mind numberland.

In any case, I've accepted these are just more curious tracks on the winding album that is my deliciously dissociated life experience. Vintage vinyl episodes to savor and chuckle over before the next round of out-of-body riffing begins anew. At least my mindstream has some solid Spotify quality, diary! Who needs monotonous cohesion when you can masterfully shuffle between myriad headspace remixes at any given moment? Your pal has frontrow seating for an experimental existential concert, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

#dissociative system #dissociative identity disorder #actually dissociative #dissociative disorder #dissociation #did disorder #actually osdd #did system #osdd system #did osdd #did alter #did positivity #did community #did #actually did #dissociative alters #osdd alter #alters #alter #osdd 1a #osddid #osdd memes #osdd #osdd 1b

[tristayranambrosio]

Burning Dawn (DWC day 5 Flame)

(The song the Performance is to) The deep violet colored silk runs like a living fluid around me… I am shrouded in their darkness, my light obscured by the panels of night. I am center-stage though I have no audience tonight, I never do for this… I’ve not the skill to perform these acts like those I’ve been lucky enough to call my peers… in this I am out matched, but this is not for them… for anyone. When I part the silk like veils I see her face… forever burned into my thoughts like a desert flame, she wound herself in the very same silks and seduced me with the songs she sang from their heights… I twist the panels of fabric into rope using my toes and tension builds, strength from the coiled silk that is stronger than what it’s softness implies, above my head I wind and twist the second panel of fabric as music fills my ears and muddies her features makes her chestnut skin fade into the same dark violet above me. This isn’t for her… this isn’t for anyone… this is for me. When revealed the lights that pin me scatter rhinestone catch lights like a thousand starbursts from my skin tight attire, in the pinks and magentas and oranges… reds of a sunrise, of a dawn bursting to life still barely arched off the stage between two dangling streams of midnight. I nestle into the familiar embrace of the dark, as if I am the flame of daylight… the first pink fingertips of sunlight reluctant to look towards the horizon. She whispers promises I once believed, the sweetest Symphonies of the life I might have had… She asks the question none had ever before, and I melted in her thrall… I wind the silks tight about my torso, fiercely hoisting my upper body level with the engagement of my core set into a hold the position by gripping the far silk partially wrapped about the arch of each foot, pantomiming a steady ascent away from the ground, as if I am walking step by step while parallel to where I’d laid Dormant. “And who is it who takes care of you I wonder?” The words sound like poison now, they were nectar and I was starving and even now they ring true enough to sting my heart with the memory of barbs plunged into it by the very same question from the very same lips… uttered instead in cruel irony.

I climb. My arms scream in protest but I climb. With each yard I gain another coil wraps about my arm until I use one sweep to upend myself to trade one binding of the arm to wrap my thigh… I echo the same then reach out to the darkness into which I cast a thousand prismatic stars from the gems sewn into my suit. I spread my legs and in a surge throw my weight to swing me upright, my hair threatening to escape its tie, but not yet. I catch myself on the two silk sheets and wrap them under my shoulders, closing my knees to artfully construct a hammock for me to hang seated far above the stage. Perhaps I am a fool to practice the art she perfected… that I learned once to offer a partner… a dancer in silk and symphony. Perhaps I’m torturing myself… But I feel a burning in my limbs, and in my core, and it makes me feel I am one with the music in the air. I give in to the music and the exertion becomes a flurry of flips, and reversals tangling, and untangling, whipping my weight in precise extensions to fall… just right and I climb… higher and higher… towards the light that refracts off of me as if I am a jewel, a lantern hung between the last clutches of violet night.

As I crescendo into the rising action I am suspended, legs split above me as I yank the tie from my hair and it cascades out and down with gravity as I defy it with not but silk tension and the power of my core’s ability to support me. I rake my fingers through the curls I unleashed and feel like something wild and alive, like a spill of color blooming in the waking world. I curl myself in and clutch the underside of my knees back bowed and chest arched outward to the open air, like a star is attempting it’s escape from within me… then I reverse and use the momentum to flip upright my hair fanning out in a wild after image behind me that makes me a magenta comet, like a dawn fast approaching to chase the nocturnal back into resting. I wrap my arms in the silks freeing my legs to walk mid air and build momentum… speed… and I am spinning. I tuck my knees in and clutch my silks so the coil with me, I twirl and spin so fast that I am a blur my hair and crystalline catch lights sparkling like I have set the silk ablaze with flame, with sunlight. I burn… This does not -belong- to anyone… this is just as much my art… in fact, with no witness to it, I am the only one this is for.

As the spinning slows I untangle myself… just to wind the length of the silks slowly in coil after coil around my middle, to cross the one rope with another until I reach the knots above… I am wound and cocooned parallel with the stage once more… and as the music halts I take the breath I need to extend my arm and leg out to one last desperate hold… Then I fall, my weight cut loose from its wound coil and I plummet between the silk like a whirlwind yards and yards that took me the whole performance to ascend, unravel me, and -just- as I would crash land… I catch myself mid drop held effortlessly like a timeless piece of art, limbs like brushstrokes lit by my contrast against the dark… I am a flame defiant and my own. The music fades… and I gracefully lower myself to touch down… now a flame slowly dying in the sunset of the performance. No one applauds… but I also do not feel the lingering scorn… or the shame for having come to love the way my body aches after each dance in the air with not but fabric as a partner… I let the streamers of midnight brush my cheek as they settle back as long curtains untangling themselves from my harsh movements suspended between them. It is strange and painstriken how I found this outlet… but I embrace each moment that I blaze as dawn between the silks. 

( @daily-writing-challenge )

#moon guard #roleplay #world of warcraft #wow oc #bard #warcraft rp #short story #trist'ayran #silks #dance #emotional #art #daily writing challenge #@daily-writing-challenge #Spotify #novemberday52023

[disabled-dragoon]

Anyone unfamiliar with the concept of the British pantomime needs to know a few things for the rest of this post to make sense:

It's like a big school play with a higher budget.

It's campy, comedic, slapstick and often musical.

They tend to tell a fairy tale or folklore story. I.e. Snow White, Peter Pan, Sleeping Beauty, Dick Whittington etc. etc.

They're big on audience participation. There's a lot of call and response chants, i.e. "Oh no I didn't" "OH YES YOU DID", "He's behind you!", "You fell over, you fell over, you fell over...." and so on. It's fun.

You can watch them year round but the big panto season is Christmas and the New Year. They're everywhere.

There's usually at least one man in drag. Probably playing an older woman. We call them Dames and they are a delight.

Young boy characters also tend to be played by young women.

Innuendo.

It's very common for a lot of well known, or C or D list British celebrities to be a part of the bigger ones, like soap stars, comedians, dancers, TV hosts. etc. etc.

Sometimes. This means the casting is just. Off the wall.

Now.

This, is Basil.

[ID: Close up photograph of a glove puppet. It is an orange fox in a green suit. The fox is smiling. /end]

Basil Brush.

Basil is a puppet. A glove puppet and a staple of children's TV since the 1960s. At one point he, still a puppet, even had his own talk/sketch show, and he'd get a lot of famous guests on here.

All of this is to say:

I recently learned that Basil Brush (THE PUPPET) regularly appears and stars in pantomimes across the country and I have not recovered from this information.

#need to see Basil Brush headlining a panto now #how does it work #apparently this is common knowledge information #basil brush #uk #pantomime #not disability related #image #image description #caps

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 28

1833 – Charles George "Chinese" Gordon aka Gordon of Khartoum, British soldier and administrator born (d.1885); A military hero of imperial Britain and a martyr at Khartoum, Gordon worried constantly about his inability to score with women, several times wishing himself either a eunuch or a corpse. His wish to die in battle, which was eventually granted him, no doubt accounted for his almost legendary bravery.

Although the record shows that he surrounded himself with beautiful young men, his sense of honor and his religious convictions make it doubtful that his soul was ever sullied, no less his pud. Still, he found a novel way to gratify his senses. He was fond of picking up street urchins, bathing them, feeding them, and mending their clothes with his own needle and thread.

What evidence is there of his homosexuality? Firstly he began his days by having a cold bath (a fact cited by many authors). This is often explained as being necessary to "cool his passions." Secondly, there is his liking for small children, in particular boys. There is no doubt that Gordon enjoyed the company of young boys. From all accounts he seemed to have sought them out, spent time with them in his home and nursed them when they were sick. It has to be said that this suggests not only latent homosexuality but latent paedophillia. Thirdly, there is Gordon's aversion to women: he is on record as having refused invitations from women if he felt that he was being lined up to marry a young woman. Gordon remained a bachelor all of his life.

On their own, none of these facts provide conclusive proof of homosexuality, but taken as a whole, to the modern mind, it would seem to be fairly conclusive proof that Gordon was, as biographer John Pollock puts it, "sexually orientated towards men." His homosexuality was apparently discreet, as many accounts make no mention of it.

1873 – Gabrielle Sidonie Colette, French writer (d.1954); The great French writer's affairs with women are well known, but equally so are her affairs with men. Colette's was a concept of androgyny in which everyone was predisposed to discover within herself, himself, and in other people, a subtle mixture of male and female components. "Once the precious tresses are cut," she wrote, "the breasts, hands, bellies, hidden, what is left of our female facades? In sleep, an incalculable number of women approach the form they would probably have chosen had their life awake not made them ignorant of themselves. And the same for me. I can still see the gracefulness of a sleeping man! From forehead to mouth, behind his closed eyelids, he smiled, nonchalant and sly as a sultana behind her grilled window ... And I, who would have in my stupidity `really liked' to be completely a woman, I looked at him with a male regret." Ambivalence was Colette's middle name.

in 1905, Colette was introduced to Natalie Clifford Barney's circle, and met Missy, the Marquise de Belboeuf, with whom she had a six-year relationship. Following her separation from her first husband—she was married three times- in 1906, Colette made her living as a professional dancer and mime (the subject of her 1911 novel The Vagabond).

One of the most famous incidents of this period involved a performance at the Moulin Rouge of a pantomime in which the amateur Missy (who had taken a few lessons for this purpose) played the male role as the mysterious "Yssim" (no one was fooled) opposite Colette. As Colette arose from a sarcophagus, she and Missy acted out a love scene together: Their passionate kiss resulted in a near-riot among the protesting spectators.

She published around 50 novels in total, many with autobiographical elements. Her themes can be roughly divided into idyllic natural tales or dark struggles in relationships and love. All her novels were marked by clever observation and dialogue with an intimate, explicit style. Her most popular novel, Gigi, was made into a Broadway play and a highly successful Hollywood motion picture, Gigi, starring Maurice Chevalier, Louis Jourdan and Leslie Caron.

A controversial figure throughout her life, Colette was open about her Lesbian affairs. She aided her Jewish friends, including hiding her husband in her attic all through the war. She was a member of the Belgian Royal Academy (1935), president of the Académie Goncourt (1949) (and the first woman to be admitted into it, in 1945), and a Chevalier (1920) and a Grand Officier (1953) of the Légion d'honneur.

When she died in Paris on August 3, 1954, she was given a state funeral, although she was refused Roman Catholic rites because of her divorce. Colette is interred in Le Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.

1901 – James Richmond Barthé was a popular African-American sculptor associated with the Harlem Renaissance. (d.1989) He used his art as a means of working out internal conflicts related to race and sexuality.

Born on January 28, 1901, in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, into a family of devout Roman Catholic Creoles, Barthé left home at sixteen to work as a houseboy for a wealthy and socially prominent New Orleans family.

In 1924, he moved to Chicago, where he took evening art classes and discovered his talent for sculpture. Only months before the stock market crash in 1929, Barthé moved to New York City. There he quickly made the acquaintance of many important artists, writers, patrons, and other intellectuals of the Harlem Renaissance.

Although he became renowned as a portraitist of celebrities in the worlds of art, theater, and dance, Barthé produced a variety of sculptures throughout his career. His three major themes are racial politics, religion, and eroticism.

Barthé's life and art were devoted to resolving the pressures he felt as a black artist in New York, as a deeply spiritual person, and as a homosexual. His sculptures became the means through which he attempted to work out and work through these conflicts.

In 1931, Barthé's solo exhibition in a New York gallery brought him to the attention of critics. His work expresses a range of emotions and experiences, from lynching as a social reality for blacks to the eroticism of dance. For Barthé, dance was an inexhaustible theme; he even took dance lessons with Mary Radin of the Martha Graham group soon after arriving in New York as a way to authenticate movement in his figures. Many of his dancing figures suggest the sculptor's erotic involvement with the single male (or female) subject in motion.

Barthé was unique among African-American artists during the Harlem Renaissance in that he was the only one to exploit fully the black male nude for its political, racial, aesthetic, and erotic significance, as in Feral Benga and Stevedore. His homoeroticism is expressed in both Western mythological themes and in notions of the Africanized primitive.

Although Barthé remained closeted all his life, he entered an established network of gay men and women soon after his arrival in Harlem in 1929. His penchant for homoerotic themes was encouraged by his friends in New York's gay and artistic communities, which stretched across barriers of race, gender, and class. His most important African-American supporters included his friend and one-time lover, writer/painter Richard Bruce Nugent, as well as philosopher Alain Locke.

Howard Austen with Gore Vidal

1929 – Howard Austen (né Howard Auster — d.2003) was the longtime companion of American writer Gore Vidal. They were together for 53 years, until Austen's death.

Austen was born into a working-class Jewish family and grew up in The Bronx, New York. Reportedly, Austen wanted to have a career as a singer. In 1950, when Vidal met Austen, Austen had just graduated and was struggling to find work writing advertising copy. At Vidal's suggestion, he changed his surname from "Auster" to "Austen" after advertising firms refused to hire him because he was Jewish. Immediately after he changed his name, he was hired at Doyle, Dane & Bernbach, which was considered a very good house and is known as DDB today. Austen would go on to become a stage manager for Broadway shows in the 1950s and 1960s. He also worked in film, assisting with the casting of the classic 1962 film To Kill a Mockingbird.

Austen was described as red-haired and freckle-faced and was 21, having just graduated from New York University, when he met Vidal at New York's Everard Baths on Labor Day, 1950. Vidal has been reported as describing their relationship as "two men who decided to spend their lives together".

Austen managed the couple's complicated financial affairs, travel arrangements and housing needs, both at their home in Hollywood and in their La Rondinaia villa in Ravello, Italy on the Amalfi coast. In September 2003, Austen died from a brain tumor at the age of 74 in Los Angeles, California. In February 2005, Austen was re-buried at Rock Creek Cemetery, in Washington, D.C., in a joint grave meant for Vidal and Austen.

1969 – (Maurice Alberto) Mo Rocca is an American humorist, journalist, and actor. He is a correspondent for CBS Sunday Morning, the host and creator of My Grandmother's Ravioli on the Cooking Channel, and also the host of The Henry Ford's Innovation Nation on CBS. He is the moderator of the National Geographic Society's National Geographic Bee. He is the host of the podcast Mobituaries with Mo Rocca from CBS News.

Rocca was born in Washington, D.C.; his mother immigrated there from Bogotá, Colombia in 1956 at age 28, and his father was a third generation Italian-American from Leominster, Massachusetts. He attended Georgetown Preparatory School, a Jesuit boys' school in North Bethesda, Maryland. He graduated from Harvard University in 1991 with a bachelor of arts degree in literature. He served as president of Harvard's Hasty Pudding Theatricals, performing in four of the company's notorious burlesques and co-authoring one (Suede Expectations).

Rocca began his career acting on stage in the Southeast Asia tour of the musical Grease (1993) and Paper Mill Playhouse's South Pacific (1994). His first television work was as a writer and producer for the Emmy and Peabody Award-winning children's television series Wishbone. He also wrote for The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seuss on the Nickelodeon TV channel and Pepper Ann on the ABC TV network. In 2011, he won an Emmy as a writer for the 64th Annual Tony Awards.

In July 2011, Rocca revealed on The Six Pack podcast (episode 73) that he is gay. His participation in Pope Francis' September 2015 Mass in Madison Square Garden was hailed by gay rights advocates.

Joel Gibb & The Hidden Cameras

1977 – Joel Gibb is a Berlin-based Canadian artist and singer-songwriter who leads the "gay church folk" group The Hidden Cameras. He was born in Kincardine, Ontario.

His first involvement with the music scene was as editor of a fanzine devoted to independent bands, Glamour Guide for Trash. He also hosted a college radio show at CFRE-FM in Mississauga, Ontario. At the same time, he was writing his own songs and, in 2001, he released some of his recordings under the name The Hidden Cameras on his own independent record label EvilEvil, a CD entitled Ecce Homo.

He then gathered together a group of musicians to perform his work, playing everywhere from art galleries to churches to porn theatres to parks. Along the way, the band grew to include up to thirteen members, including a string section, choir and go-go dancers, its audience growing at the same time.

In 2003 the Hidden Cameras were signed to Rough Trade, a well known British record label who released the band's next album, The Smell of Our Own the same year. They began to tour North America and Europe extensively. In 2004, the album Mississauga Goddam was released, followed by The arms of his 'ill' on the California label Absolutely Kosher Records. The album Awoo came out in 2006 on Rough Trade Records, EvilEvil, and Arts & Crafts. All The Hidden Cameras releases to date have been produced by Joel Gibb. In 2007, solo recordings by Gibb were released on the tribute to Arthur Russell compilation EP, Four Songs by Arthur Russell. (Arthur Russell was a gay American composer, singer and musician who died of AIDS in 1992.)

In 2009, he joined forces with PETA in the campaign against the annual seal hunt, appearing on a massive poster in downtown Ottawa reading "Canada's Club Scene Sucks," referring to the clubbing to death of the seals on the icepack.

Gibb exhibits his artwork in various galleries and has been included in group shows in the past at the Tate Modern, among others. His work comprises drawings and banners, both of which are featured on The Hidden Cameras CDs and records. He also shows the videos he has directed for The Hidden Cameras.

1988 – Max Gilardi, also known by his online handle HotDiggedyDemon, is an American animator, voice actor, and YouTuber. He is best known for his "PONY.MOV" web series, a parody of the popular children's animated television series My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic. He is also the creator of Spookyville, USA, the Jerry series and Wacky Game Jokez, 4 Kidz! and co-creator of podcast 'Wisenheimers' aka 'unofficial Scott Pilgrimcast'

Gilardi was born in Massachusetts in 1988. He attended the Art Institute of Boston briefly before dropping out.

Gilardi, under the name "HotDiggedyDemon", first started creating flash animations in the early 2000s on Newgrounds.com. In 2007, he began uploading his work to his YouTube channel as well. That year, he created the "Jerry" series, a series of animations detailing the life of a man named Jerry. In 2010, he created the "Wacky Game Jokez, 4 Kidz!" series, also known as "WGJ4K", featuring video game-based humor.

From 2011 to 2013, he gained notability for releasing his six-part video parody of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, "PONY.MOV", an adult dark comedy animated web series in the art style of The Ren & Stimpy Show. The series grew as a spin-off of Gilardi's Tumblr webcomic, "Ask Jappleack", and each video highlights a different character from the main cast of the television series. In addition to creating animations, he co-hosted the Wisenheimers podcast with fellow animator Yotam Perel from 2010 to 2012.

Little else is known about the author who is self-described as 'a bit shy, an introverted Ratalian, and open homosexual and gay rights activist.' He is 6 foot 4 inches in height but has said that he would trade it all to be shorter with a larger penis.

#Youtube

[littledigest]

The Muses in Astrology - Inspiration and Creative Talents Personified

There are 3 Boeotian Muses and 9 Olympian Muses in ancient Greek mythology.

56, 600, 57, 22, 84, 27, 23, 18, 81, 62, 33, 30

3 Boeotian Muses

The Boeotian Muses are the original muses in ancient Greece: Mneme (memory), Melete (thought, meditation), and Aoede (voice, song). Unfortunately, I could find only one asteroid named after them, Melete.

Melete 56

Named after Melete, one of the Boeotian Muses associated with thought, meditation, ponderance, contemplation, and practice

All art, science, and inspiration, in general, come from contemplation

Meditating, brainstorming, practicing skills, deep thought, developing skills

Overthinking, anxiety

9 Olympian Muses

The Nine Olympian Muses are Calliope, Clio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polyhymnia, and Urania.

Musa 600

Named after the 9 Olympian Muses in Greek mythology

Being a muse and inspiration to others; being inspired often

Artistic, creative, grace, beauty

Praise, entertaining, fascinating

Mnemosyne 57

Named after Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory and mother of the Nine Muses

Good memory, bad memory

Ability to tap into collective subconsciousness

Kalliope 22

Named after Calliope, the Muse of eloquence, epic poetry

Calliope means "beautiful-voiced"

A strong voice that makes others listen, a way with words

Singing ability, story-telling especially epic stories about heroes, praising others or praised for heroic or good deeds

Klio 84

Named after Clio, the Muse of history

Means "to recount", "to make famous", "to celebrate"

History buffs, digging into the past, work related to historical events

Can be a fame asteroid; leaving a mark in history

Euterpe 27

Named after Euterpe, the Muse of music, flutes, lyric poetry

Means "to delight", "to rejoice", "to please"

Musicians would look to Euterpe for guidance in their compositions

Musicians, songwriters, playing wind instruments

Thalia 23

Named after Thalia, the Muse of comedy, idyllic poetry

Means "joyous", "flourishing"

Comedians, humor, spreading joy

Melpomene 18

Named after Melpomene, the Muse of tragedy, chorus

Means "to sing", "melodious one", "to celebrate with dance and song"

Tragic themes in art, drama, satire, theater

Singing and dancing ability, acting

Terpsichore 81

Named after Terpsichore, the Muse of dance, chorus

Means "delight in dancing"

Dancers; professions or hobbies where body movement is important

Erato 62

Named after Erato, the Muse of erotic poetry, lyric poetry, mimic imitation

Means "desired", "lovely"

Love songs, love poetry, love letters, erotic writing, art that is provocative or sensual

Sweet talker, charming, expressing affection

Polyhymnia 33

Named after Polyhymnia, the Muse of sacred poetry, sacred hymn, dance, eloquence, agriculture, pantomime, geometry, meditation

"Poly" means "many"; "hymnos" means "praise"

Serious, pensive, meditative demeanor

Multi-talented; many hobbies and skills

Very talented in artistic/creative/music fields; receiving many praises

Urania 30

Named after Urania, the Muse of astronomy, Christian poetry, Universal Love

Means "heavenly", "of heaven"

Majestic, beautiful, graceful demeanor

Philosopher, astronomer, astrologer, fortune teller, prophet

Religion, math, abstract ideas, theories

#astrology #astrology blog #astrology post #littledigest #asteroids #muse #nine muses #boeotian muses #natal chart #birth chart #inspiration #melete #musa #mnemosyne #kalliope #calliope #klio #clio #euterpe #thalia #melpomene #terpsichore #erato #polyhymnia #urania

[terra-wisp]

Day 10: "In Between" || 462 Words || Fleurmione (Beauty and the Beast AU - But not in the way you think) @sapphicmicrofics

“Hermione! I do not know where all this dust comes from, but I do not appreciate all this extra work you give me!” 

Fleur’s voice echoed throughout the vast room that was the Master’s library. Normally, the monstrous prince and his initially unwilling guest were frequent visitors, but today it was just Fleur and Hermione.

A singular feather duster flipped onto the shelving dedicated to Herbal Remedies, almost as if an unseen hand held it as it cleaned yet another layer of unending dust. The wand worked diligently, with the grace of a dancer. All the while, Fleur’s voice continued to chat to her silent audience. 

Eventually, the tool of lacquered wood and feathers stopped, and in a surprisingly human motion two of its feathers separated from the rest to pantomime putting one’s hands on their hips. It was then that the face along the handle was properly seen and it did not look amused. 

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” The feather duster, now revealed to be the lone chatty speaker within the vast room, called out. 

There wasn’t a verbal answer. Fleur hadn’t expected one, though it would’ve been nice. Instead, she spotted various tomes push themselves so they stuck out within their brethren. 

“Years within Colors” By Saint Sinclaire

“Overtures of the Last Century” By Poppy Earkat

“Universal Remedies for an Ailing Heart” By Holga Von Lipst

“Linseed Oil and its Many Uses” As contributed by the Sosh Valley Winery

The feather duster bounced from title to title as they each popped out, but she paid no attention to the books themselves and their content — simply the first letter. By the time the final title had revealed itself, Fleur was as close to breathless as a cursed inanimate object could be. 

But she got the message.

Y-O-U-L-O-V-E-M-E-A-N-Y-W-A-Y

The once proud head maid of the former Prince’s staff let out a shuddering sigh. 

“I love you too, mon lionne.” She tentatively placed a single feather against the red oak of the shelf she rested on. It had been so many years since the curse had stolen their bodies away. And while Fleur had retained some autonomy, the steward of the library had not been so lucky.

Hermione was here, and Fleur knew that they were amongst the lucky ones to not be separated from their significant other but it had been so long since she had heard her lover’s posh London accent.

“I am selfish, but I miss hearing your voice.” 

The books shuddered as another phrase was spelled out.

O-N-E-D-A-Y

The books were quick to straighten themselves out, likely because of the voices of their Master and the woman that the castle had put their hopes in. 

Fleur only hoped that it wouldn’t be too late. [A/N: Walked in on some people talking about Fleur as a feather duster in Beauty and the Beast, and I had a "huh" moment. This goes to you dorks. Also, if you spot my attempts at being clever...] [A/N 2: This is NOT part 3 of my random 3 part micro fic trilogy. I got waylaid.]

#fleurmione #hermione x fleur #sapphic microfics #hp wlw #beauty and the beast AU #This turned out sadder than I expected #sorry not sorry #hermione granger #fleur delacour

[vale-priestess]

❀ MAYPOST ❀

Below is an article of mine I’ve shared before, about how Wiccans (especially those outside of the UK) have a skewed perception of May Day that does not necessarily reflect surviving traditions. This was long before the TERFs really started to take hold over the “nature-based” demographics; many of these harmless folk customs would be outlawed if they had the power to do so. Anyway, here it is in full, because nobody wants to click through a bunch of links. (archived here)  ❀ Some time ago, I began to question what I've generally been told about British folk traditions. May Day, for example. I was so busy re-educating myself about folk festivals in Gaelic cultures, that I never stopped to question what I knew about British ones. My following visit to Wikipedia was illuminating.

Here are some things I was surprised to learn.

1. May Day is feminine and twee by today's standards.

At a neopagan festival, you're likely to encounter a maypole, and any dancing that occurs will be performed in the weaving of the ribbons around it. In England, there's a lot more dancing. Elaborately choreographed dancing. Young and old folks dancing. With bells. And ribbons. And wands. And little hankies. And flowers. Flowers on hats. Men's hats. 

These Cotswold dancers, for example. Or these dancers at Oxford Circus. As you can see from some of the comments, the average citizen tends to find these displays uncool and annoying. Failing to combat this attitude is a contingent of "goths and pagans" on a mission to butch the whole thing up with black clothing, phallic pantomime, and seasonally inappropriate hats - much to the disapproval of traditionalists (and people who can see.) 

Happily, morris isn't restricted to the month of May. They are also seen on other holidays, such as St George's Day and Pentecost. On Plough Monday, dancers in East Anglia gather in “molly teams,” made up of jolly, burly types dressed like little girls. 

Royal Liberty Morris dancers and “molly”

2. The May Queen can be a little girl.

Wiccan and neopagan literature tends to emphasize the idea of May Day as a marriage rite between the “king” and “queen” of spring. But that doesn’t necessarily describe the festivals that have survived to the present day. In many townships, the sole representative of springtime is the May Queen: a young girl chosen from among local students in their pre-to-mid-teens. 

She is crowned before her community and a procession is made to welcome her rule. 

She may have a wide cast of characters and troops to accompany her, including musicians, dancers and attendants. One of the longest running May Day fairs is held each year in Hayfield, Derbyshire, where there are many roles and silly costumes donned by children and adults. 

Hayfield May Queen attended by girls dressed as beefeaters.

There is precedent for a May King, however, to be found in some Early Modern sources. Here's one mention of a "Lord of May" from the diary of Henry Machyn, in 1557: "On the 30th day of May was a jolly May-game in Fenchurch Street (London) with drums and guns and pikes, The Nine Worthies did ride; and they all had speeches, and the morris dance and sultan and an elephant with a castle and the sultan and young moors with shields and arrows, and the lord and lady of the May." These military characters may reflect the Spanish origins of morris dance, where battles were reenacted to commemorate historical conflicts with Morocco.

Additionally, in Sports and Pastimes of the People of England, the author tells us that "in the comedy called The Knight of The Burning Pestle, written by Beaumont and Fletcher in 1611, a citizen, addressing himself to the other actors, says, 'Let Ralph come out on May-day in the morning, and speak upon a conduit, with all his scarfs about him, and his feathers, and his rings, and his knacks, as Lord of the May.' His request is complied with, and Ralph appears upon the stage in the assumed character, where he makes his speech, beginning in this manner: With gilded staff and crossed scarf the May Lord here I stand." Strutt also notes the appearance of Robin Hood appearing in May Day performances, accompanied by "a female, or rather, perhaps, a man habited like a female, called the Maid Marian, his faithful mistress." 

From this, we see that...

3. The May Queen can be a drag performer.

In the late 1880s, chimney-sweeps and other guild-workers had developed their own styles of celebration. For them, the "Lady of the May" was typically played by a man, for comedic effect. She carried a ladle and was dressed like a flirty cook, while the "Lord of the May" was dressed as an admiral, or a gentleman in a powdered wig. I find this example interesting, not just for its urban setting, but for the satirical quality of the characters involved. Also, these games came about after morris traditions had lain dormant in the countryside for some time.

Some regions have processions led only by Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Interestingly, the Maid Marian was the sole focus of these pageants for centuries before the Robin Hood mythos came into being, and continued to preside over the festivities long after he had faded from popularity.

Another one of the oldest continuing May Day processions is the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance, dating back to the 11th century. Here, Maid Marian has no consort. Then, as now, she was played by a young man. 

The Horn Dancers consist of the horn bearers, the Maid Marian, the Fool, a boy to keep time on triangle, and a boy with a bow and arrow. In recent years, girls have also been allowed to participate in the boys’ roles.

4. The May Queen can be a doll.

This is an interesting practice that bears a close resemblance to the Gaelic custom of making the Brideog doll on Imbolc. The Oxford Dictionary of English Folklore tells us:

The most widespread and best known May Day activity in the 19th and early 20th centuries was the children's garland custom. In essence, this involved groups of children visiting houses in their community showing a garland, singing a song, and collecting money. [...] A regular, but not ubiquitous, feature was to place a dressed and decorated doll (sometimes more than one) in the centre of the garland, or in front of it. She was usually called something like Her Lady, or The Queen, and treated with great respect. Commentators assume she represented the Virgin Mary. In some places, it was the doll which was given precedence, rather than the garland, transported in a decorated box or basket... 

In this write-up from a UK newspaper, we're told:

There has been much debate about what the May Doll represents. Some believed it was the Virgin Mary, to whom the month was dedicated, others Flora or the May Queen. One of a group of young girls told a folklorist in Bampton, Oxfordshire in the 1970s that their doll represented a goddess whilst another in the group said it was Minerva! In Edlesborough, Buckinghamshire, two dolls, one smaller than the other, were carried in a covered decorated chair to resemble the Virgin and Child. 

It also notes that in some counties, this doll was called "the Maulkin." Bringing this all back around, these etymology geeks claim that "maulkin" or "malkin" was once a common term for the young man dressed as the lady in May Day dances and parades. Guess playing dress-up was always the point.

What strikes me the most after learning all of this? Overall, traditional May Day festivities seem...almost diametrically opposed to the image presented to me by the pagan community, which was all about reinforcing strict gender roles. On the American side at least, I think a lot of pagan men would find the absence of a May King intolerable, and the presence of a drag queen unthinkable. In their minds, this can't be what their ancestors intended. If they can invent their own May Day to be more heavy metal, then they will do just that. 

I am not here to say that old customs are good and new ones are bad. Many of the traditions described above were revived in the 1900s, by new communities who did new things with it. There were also debates in the mid-20th century, around whether women should be allowed to participate in May dancing, despite the fact that women were evidently involved both in its history and preservation. So it’s not as if the legacy of May Day is totally free of sexism or revisionism. What I'm here to say is this: Sometimes, when a person claims to be practicing an ancient faith that's been passed down secretly through the country-ways of the common-folk, you have to ask yourself: what is it they're really advocating? Tradition? Clearly, tradition has no problem with unmarried girls or cross-dressing men. Nature veneration? Somehow, the seasons kept turning through all this. If someone is telling you a story about what your forebears practiced, believed, or valued - can you be sure they’re telling the truth? To the best of their ability? It's important to be sure, I think, if we sincerely want to honor the past.

❀

Extras:

Jack-In-The-Green Revisited

Quest For the Queens is a collection of BBC footage of May Day festivities in New Westminster, from the 1930s onward.

The Hayfield May Festival in 2011.

Nigel Pennick with a May garland and doll, plus a song on accordion.

#may day #beltane #wicca #I tried to post this earlier in the day #but I started disassociating really badly #I definitely don't have religious trauma #from the happy hippie religion #nope none at all #why is the last emoji so huge

[apollosdrunkenmixup]

It’s interesting how much of English culture has some form of Tommy and Betty.

These two characters are usually both portrayed by men, and fill an almost narrator role, as well as comedic relief, for whatever performance they’re in.

Tommy and Betty are from Rapper dancing. They’re the only ones who talk to the audience. They clear the space for the dancers, and verbally entertain the audience with banter while the dancers dance. They will also pop in and out of the dance periodically.

But you also have the pantomime dame and dunce. Every pantomime has an over the top dame and a slightly stupid male character. They’re nearly always close friends with the main character, and do lots of back and forth and jokes with the audience.

Mummers plays (especially more north) will have Tom Fool and Dame Jane. Who’s names are fairly self explanatory.

I need to write as essay on this. Possibly as a subset of drag in English folk culture.

#folk dance #rapper #Morris #pantomime #drag #English customs

[w0lp3rtinger]

The Kids Are Alright Ch 3 (The Miracle of Love)

Thank you to @killingthecringe, @lambpaca and @shadowsfascination for looking this over. I’m writing in a style I usually like to do for short stories and such, but not for longer pieces. This is an experiment on my end. I... have decided I do genuinely prefer this style of writing to just one-shots but here we are XD It's done. Onto other things.

Ch 1 can be read here Ch 2 can be read here

---

‘Barbie: Dolphin Magic’ over dinner was a success, and ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ before bedtime was a showstopper, even if that was largely due to everyone starting to fall asleep in the middle of it. 

“Do you think we’ll need to stop the movie early?” Amy muttered, leaning towards Shadow without taking her eyes from the screen. 

“Why?” 

“To get them to bed.”

Shadow hummed at that. Amy watched their fingers drum atop their knees. 

She pointed to Cream, who was slumped over Tails’ shoulder. “The first time Hushaby Mountain played, Cream almost fell out of her chair. I can’t tell if she is even awake now that they’re in the middle of the reprise.” 

Amy watched Shadow’s face, watched their eyes crinkle in the corners as they took in the scene before them. 

“Their teeth are already brushed, and they are in their night clothes,” he whispered softly. “I say let them fall asleep to this. We can carry them to bed.” 

Amy couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. “We’ll need to set up the cots for Tails and Charmy in Cream’s room.” 

“Already done.” 

She raised an eyebrow at that, and Shadow shrugged. 

“I took care of it while you were helping them clean up from dinner.” 

“Oh…” Amy blinked in surprise, “I-I’m sorry. I would have helped.” 

Shadow turned to look at her then, brow furrowed. “You did.” 

She opened her mouth, then shut it with a sigh, gesturing loosely as she did so. “Well, I mean, yeah okay, but it took a bit longer than expected… I have no idea how Tails got pizza grease in his fur.” 

Shadow cocked his head. “He’s a child.” 

“Well, I mean, he’s so smart-” 

Shadow huffed, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. “Okay, a smart child who is still a child and will get pizza grease in his fur.” 

Amy bit her lip, shaking her head even as she tried to hold in her laughter. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Shadow’s face soften in the dim glow of the television. It was only when the music picked up again, a bright swell in the dark of the living room, that Amy turned back to watch the movie. 

There, unfolding from a makeshift box, one of the characters stood tall. She had been dressed to look like a little toy, with her hair up in braids and big red circles for cheeks. Amy couldn’t help but giggle as she watched the pantomime of the old toymaker rushing around whilst pretending to wind the woman up until she began to turn. 

Amy leaned forward.

The song came forth, crisp and clear, as the music box dancer spun around. Her eyes were alive, even while being caged by her motions and the moment, pinned by the gaze of the evil Barron and his wife, the crowd that came leering in wait of something dreadful.

And she sang of wanting to be loved. 

Amy took a deep breath. A hand moved to hide the tightness in her chest. 

The woman’s voice echoed through the tiled halls of the tyrant’s castle, each word a bright star against the dark backdrop of lonely solitude. Trapped. She was trapped, waiting for love’s first kiss. 

Yearning and turning, around and around, until finally, she wound down once more into silence. 

“Oh,” Amy’s hand balled into a fist.

There was a pause, just long enough for the bureaucrats and wealthy to clap like a herd of seals before the chum bucket, before the second box opened. There lay a second character made up to look like a ragdoll, all stitched parts and the bright colours of a plaything. It bobbed its head in the silence, swaying without destination until it rose up, up, onto its own two feet. 

When it bowed, the evil Barron bowed back. 

Their bells jingled as they moved, the blank face of the performer held perfectly still as a band in the balcony of the palace commanded it to move for the entertainment of the viewers, both those in the movie and her, sitting there on the couch. It jerked about the place as if pulled by a string, puppeted by those watching. 

It watched the world slack-jawed and bug-eyed, not allowed to think, not allowed to breathe. 

Amy knew it was just the performance. Even within the script, it was a part that the character had to play in order to gain access to the castle and destroy it from within. Still, there was something unsettling about watching someone move with no light behind its eyes. It was as though it was pantomiming the most basic elements of living. 

That was until the ragdoll saw the music box dancer and stopped. 

Amy watched its janky limbs sway to a halt as it beheld the music box doll with eyes that suddenly sparkled with life. With the most dedicated motions Amy had seen yet, the little ragdoll turned the key to wind up the music box, and once again, the music box doll sang of love, and wanting to be loved, and waiting for love. 

But this time, the ragdoll sang with the music box dancer. 

And yes, there were silly moments, where the ragdoll didn’t understand the movements of the dancer, where the dancer, a victim of her circumstances, could not move to the song with the ragdoll. Yet still, the ragdoll sang with such love and affection to the music box dancer of its little patchwork heart and how it beat for her, how it loved her, how it hoped she knew. 

“Are you alright?” 

Amy blinked, turning to face Shadow. In the evening dark of the living room, Shadow’s eyes glowed brighter than the hazy light of the television, two searing points in the blackness. Their brow was furrowed as they leaned in, watching her, waiting. 

Amy shook her head even as she chuckled. “Yeah, yeah no I’m fine.”

Shadow’s face darkened further as Amy stood, brushing down her skirts. 

“They’re all asleep,” she said. “Why don’t you make us something to drink while I put them to bed. Dealer’s choice.” 

She swooped to pick up Cream and left before anything else could be said. 

—

Amy came back to a cup of coffee and a piece of peanut butter toast waiting for her on the kitchen table, closest to the window, opposite an empty chair. It took her a moment to spot Shadow standing off by the sink. Their hands gripped the countertop as they looked out into the night.   

“I thought you didn’t like coffee,” she said as she sat down, pulling the mug toward her. 

Shadow said nothing. 

Amy took a sip and sighed. “Well, you got it perfect. At least for me, you did. This is really good. Thank you.” 

Still, nothing. 

Amy swallowed. She turned to the window and watched as fireflies danced about the lawn. Even in the near pitch blackness, the traces of their earlier antics could still be seen, imprinted in the grass. No doubt they would be gone by sunrise tomorrow, but for this moment, they were there, illuminated, if only for this brief amount of time. 

The katydids sang. 

“Are you alright?” 

Amy blinked, turning back to look at Shadow. They were facing her now. Under the kitchen table light, Amy had to squint to see them, a slightly darker shade of black against the dim of the rest of the room, but still, their glowing eyes gave them away. 

She chuckled. “Yeah? Why?” 

There was no reply. 

Amy’grip around her mug tightened. Slowly, Shadow walked toward her, the light, sliding up and across his skin until his hands rested atop the chair across from her. 

She looked away. “I’m fine.” 

Silence. Amy drummed her fingers. 

“I don’t believe you,” they said softly. 

She shrugged. “Oh well.”

Amy kept her eyes glued to the woodgrain of the table as she heard the chair across from her slide out, then creak as Shadow sat down. Gentle vibrations of his movements set ripples through what was left of her coffee. 

She pushed the mug away.  

The kitchen hummed in the silence, illuminated briefly by lightning.

“There’s a lot of things I’ve been noticing about you…” Amy muttered, “since All Hallows Eve.”

There was a noise of intrigue. Just a small upwards note, nothing else. 

Amy crossed her arms. “I didn’t- I dunno. I feel like I’ve been… a bad friend, not realizing you were so much more than I took you for.” 

A distant peel of thunder sounded over the trees, the windows shuddering as it rolled over the house. 

“And what did you take me for?” 

She looked up, at their face, into their eyes. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “You, I guess, and you’re still you, just… more.” 

Shadow blinked.

“I should have known you better sooner,” Amy said.

“But you do now.” 

“Yes.” 

They shrugged. Lightning flashed again. 

Amy sighed, letting her crossed arms sit atop the table as she leaned forward. “You’re so calm, and you’re so gentle. I knew about the gentle thing but…. And you actually like to have fun. I feel badly that it’s all of this that I didn’t realize about you.” 

Thunder rolled once more. Amy shook her head. Shadow pushed the peanut butter toast toward her. 

“If it’s any consolation,” he muttered, “I am not half so worried about this as you are.” 

“That’s because you’re a good person,” she grumbled as she took a bite of toast. 

Shadow chuckled at that. “I think it has more to do with you being a good person than it has anything to do with me. You are the one overthinking this.” 

“Everyone judges you,” Amy snapped as she threw the snack back down on the table, “And I thought I didn’t. I thought I knew you. But here, I didn’t see just how much of you there was to know, and now I’m mad because I feel like not only have I missed out, but I also- I- I let you down.” 

One raindrop fell, then two. In an instant, the kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of a summer thunderstorm. Amy looked up at Shadow, only to find that his eyes were already on her. 

“You could never let me down.” 

He pushed the toast towards her once more, and Amy ate it in the comfortable quiet as they listened to the rain together.

#shadamy #shadamy week 2023 #miracle of love #the kids are alright #library #cream the rabbit #charmy bee #miles tails prower