the unflappably faithful

Ok I can breathe now

Kacey musgraves said gay rights yet again

Gagged!

rami malek and taron egerton were like. yes we played two of the biggest camp legend in the world. no we’re not gonna follow the theme.

Richard II on the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse stage.  

Adjoa Andoh and Lynette Linton direct the first ever company of women of colour in a Shakespeare play on a major UK stage, in a post-Empire reflection on what it means to be British in the light of the Windrush anniversary and as we leave the European Union.

Designed by Rajha Shakiry. Co-directed by Adjoa Andoh and Lynette Linton. 

Richard II is in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse until 21 April. 

Photography by Ingrid Pollard

History of British and Irish languages: an interesting gif by Starkey Comics

The original post contains still versions of all the maps with nice concise explanations. 

a good gender neutral term to use is “fool”

Wedding Dress

Lucile, 1907-1909

Kerry Taylor Auctions

“In its final moments, Columbus subtly plays with perception by revisiting a series of stark facades and polished, gleaming interiors that we have glimpsed throughout the film in shots that resonated with a hushed reverence. At first glance, they were alien and formal, as are most new objects and areas. But in the evocatively reworked montage that closes the film, they have shifted in our minds without necessarily changing at all in their appearance. Instead, they now brim with recollections of the characters who have lived and wandered among them for one fleeting period in time, characters who passed through their halls and shadows but who now spiritually shadow and suffuse the structures themselves. They have made these manmade spaces their own and quietly answered the question that once seemed irresolvable: Do we define spaces or do spaces define us? In Columbus, spaces are defined by those who build them but also, inevitably, by those who inhabit them.” — Matthew Eng

Columbus is a thing of beauty and one of 2017′s most distinctive film debuts

(Source: TribecaFilm.com)

Gentleman’s Guide Pays Tribute to Murdered Broadway Characters

"Thank you, um…what would you like to be called? I do not wish to be rude and call you something you don’t wish to be called.

It was hard to believe that the girl was their child, but she was, even if she wasn’t quite like either. She looked around, before sitting down, across from Nessa. Her curious eyes scanned over the woman, noting all the differences from her mother. How they were sisters was still something she questioned, but it was too rude of her to ask. She knew when to speak up, and when not to. This was a time not to.

"Also, I’m sure you’re not used to compliments, and I’m not trying to make a good impression, but I honestly think you’re beautiful."

What would she like to be called? Nessarose honestly had not given much thought to the matter. She had been known as Madame Governor for years now, with nobody, not even Boq, feeling familiar enough to refer to her as anything else. Briefly, Nessa considered asking Ophelia to use this particular address as well - she still felt more like a stranger to this girl than an aunt - but she could not quite bring herself to do so. There was a part of her, the part which ached whenever Boq refused to call her by name, that craved something other than the stiff formality she had grown accustomed to, and this girl was one of the few remaining people who would refer to her by name. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone who would converse with her. Perhaps, just perhaps, Boq would see, and realise that it was not quite so painful to do so. Perhaps he would follow suit.

"Aunt Nessarose would be fine, if that is what you are comfortable with. Thank you." She gave a small smile, lowering her head. It was true, Nessarose rarely received compliments these days, but she had been referred to as beautiful plenty of times before. The response - the little smile, the modest duck of the head - was almost instinctive by now. "You are pretty, yourself. I imagine my sister was pleased you did not inherit her...unusual colouring."

nessiethropp liked your post “Like for a starter! And poke me if I still owe you one”

Boq had wanted to tell himself he was happy when Elphaba didn’t come back that day. And if not happy, then at the very least he could tell himself he wasn’t surprised. What had happened in the Emerald City…well…it only confirmed what everyone at Shiz already knew! The campus was abuzz with gossip, and Madame Morrible had done little to quell it. "Of course it was going to happen!" people said, "Remember what she did the day Doctor Dillamond left! It’s a wonder they let her stay here at all! She was always rotten to the core!" And Boq agreed with them. Because Boq always had. Elphaba Thropp had scared him, and now he had a simple and viable reason as to why. She had threatened the Wizard! Used her powers to harm Animals! She was a danger to Ozians everywhere!

And yet…and yet…

Miss Nessarose had looked… so unhappy. Perhaps if it had only been that weekend of hurt. Boq could have endured the tearful stares and hurt little frowns resulting from his outburst. He could, maybe, even have taken whatever vengeance Elphaba might have eventually chosen to dish out on behalf of her heartbroken little sister. But as the days drew on, and grew steadily into weeks. Boq began to feel that all too familiar knot of guilt begin to grow in his stomach.

He had felt it before, at the Oz dust. That horrible sensation of letting someone down. Of hurting Nessa’s feelings. That little spark of hurt rebellion that had flared up at one to many “Biq!”s had shrunk and died almost as soon as it appeared. Now he just felt…rather awful. He didn’t want to be. He wanted to nod and shrug and gossip like the rest of the students. But here he was, standing outside the impressive doors to Nessa’s room. 

Boq was far too eager to please, even he could see that. But for all his internal arguing, he simply couldn’t force himself to turn and walk away. Maybe, he thought, he could just offer a word of comfort. A…a hug perhaps! And then this whole thing could be over, and he could leave. Boq nodded to himself, and knocked, softly.

Nessarose had depended on Elphaba rather a lot. She realised this now, after the latter had run away, and she was left almost entirely under Morrible's care. Aside from Miss Glinda, none of the students seemed particularly concerned by Elphaba's departure - in fact, they relished in the opportunity for gossip - and Glinda could at least busy herself with Fiyero and her many friends. Nessarose was quite isolated without Elphaba - even Boq had been noticeably absent since storming off at the train station. She'd been spending most of her time in her room, nodding blankly as Madame Morrible fussed over her and waiting until the ghastly woman would finally bustle off to a class. Perhaps it was not entirely productive to spend so much time resentful and moping, but what else could Nessa do? It was becoming difficult to tell, on the occasions when tears began to well up, whether they were from sadness or anger, or something else entirely. 

And now her father. Nessarose had known something was wrong from the moment Morrible had entered, with an air of self importance that seemed unusual even for her. She had spoken in an exaggeratedly low tone, as if the combination of bad news and a loud voice might be too much for Nessa and cause some kind of fit, and Nessarose struggled with the urge to recoil as Morrible reached to touch her shoulder. Her father had been taken ill, apparently: "It's the stress of the situation, dear, so of course it seems quite serious - although, of course, it's nothing for you to worry about." 

She had left almost immediately afterwards, to Nessa's relief, muttering something about how inconsiderate Elphaba had been (Nessarose wondered why she felt so eager to defend her sister when Morrible spoke, no matter how resentful and bitter she usually felt) and Nessa sat alone in her room, trying to process the news. Never before, to her knowledge, had her father been so ill that it was necessary to alert family members. 

Really, she wanted to speak to Elphaba, but there was no Elphaba now, so Nessarose had not moved from her room, not wanting to endure any gossiping students for the time being. The knock on the door surprised her - it was rare for anyone to venture into Morrible's private quarters - and she pulled the door only an inch or two ajar, until she poked her head around and saw who stood behind it. 

"Boq?" His arrival, unexpected as it was, startled her, and it took her a moment to realise that she was probably expected to speak. "...You came."

So this was the place. The place of the infamous Wicked Witch of the East. Things had been scarcely said about her aunt, aside from how she was unable to walk and how cruel she had become in the years. She wasn’t afraid of her, however. She was her aunt after all.

The size of the place amazed the dark haired girl as she stepped inside, before her gaze landed on her aunt. She was beautiful, unlike Elphaba, who was more angular and harsh for her features. A faint smile spread across her lips, blue eyes soft.

"That is who I am. You are my Aunt Nessa, correct?"

"Correct."

The girl was pretty and seemed rather more comfortable with strangers than Elphaba had ever been, if not quite as dramatic in her entrances as Glinda. Nessarose wasn't sure quite what to make of the girl - it was no easier now to imagine a combination of Elphaba and Glinda, and seemed foolish to try. She wondered how she was expected to respond to this informal address, accustomed to more fearful visitors, and gave a curt little nod along with her reply. Nessarose still did not feel like an aunt, and being called one made her a little uncomfortable. 

"If you would like to, Ophelia, you may sit. I shall have some tea brought to us both."

"It’s always early for such things.”

"Perhaps, but it does feel as if the celebrations ought to begin after everyone is home for the holidays, at least. Then we'd be out of the way."

nessiethropp

The evenings were quickly drawing in, darker and colder, until the trees grew barren and the air picked up a chill, as if stealing the icy breeze from the tops of the mountains of Kumbricia’s Pass for free distribution.

Elphaba was never bothered by such things, of course; the disregard for fashion only gave way to the necessity for a thick scarf, knitted navy to match the rest of her drab ensemble, and dark gloves. Oddly well shaped brows drew together; the green girl visibly agitated at the way her glasses fogged up with her breath as she pulled up the folded scarf to cover her chin, clutching at a paper cup of steaming coffee as she walked.

Ah yes, the lonely walk back to Crage Hall from the old library at Three Queens was never complete without that caffeine boost. It would be much needed. As the seasons withered through autumn and into the beginnings of winter, the semester, too, drew in to a close. It was time for home, time for the holidays. For time with Nessarose, without the overly cramped dorm rooms. Already, Elphaba could scarcely wait for the new year at Shiz to begin.

Much as Nessarose told herself that nothing gave her more pleasure than silent prayer, she nonetheless found herself anxiously awaiting her sister's return. This particular bout of devotion had, admittedly, partly arisen from a desire to keep Nanny quiet, and Nessa didn't dare lift her head up to glance out the window and see whether Elphaba was on her way, lest the woman take it as an invitation to continue speaking.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy conversation with Nanny, but since she had admitted to struggling with her history essay, the past half hour had been filled with the woman's advice. It was hardly particularly helpful advice, either - Nanny's history of Oz was littered with personal tales and beliefs that Nessarose found rather unsavoury, and hardly suited for an academic essay. The papers themselves now lay discarded on the bedside table and Nessarose could no longer hear Nanny shuffling through them. Perhaps she had finally fallen asleep. Hoping this was the case, Nessarose found herself somewhat distracted, listening for the slightest noise, hoping to hear Nanny's snoring.