Okay so one of the weirdest things I’ve found on my deep dives into various newspaper archives is Katie McGrath being interviewed about fashion in 2006 & 2007, before she was famous These clippings are from a regular feature The Irish Independent ran reporting on the average person’s fashion choices. Unfortunately while I have seen this features included in the tabloid version of the paper in colour a few years later these editions did not include them so the photos aren’t great.
Here’s the 2006 photo & interview. Featuring those boots which were a whole month’s rent worth (but hey I guess if they last 20 years that’s alright)
Here’s the 2007 interview & photo. There was just over a year between these interviews, she went from unemployed to The Tudors costume department to actress in that time. Mind you she’s only filmed like 2 or 3 very short roles by this point by hey she was going places
Time stops. Emma doesn’t realize what she’s said until the silence stretches for far too long and Regina’s gaze gets so intense, she fears it might tear a hole in the middle of her chest. Shit.
i know you ain’t wearing nothin’ underneath that overcoat and it’s all a show (crazy, crazy, i go crazy for you baby) by @reginasmillls
In case you didn’t notice, the last time you saw or liked or reblogged this, there’s a link to a fic on ao3 right there ^
IT’S SO GOOD, and you should read it. It pretty much starts from that gif set or thereabouts, and it’s funny and it’s smart and it’s hot, and it’s also sweet and loving and tender and all around wonderful.
@elinorsfairmont thanks for the great story :)
FIC REC!! It’s only 18k you can knock it out this afternoon.
You just found out that your roommate is a literal god(dess). One who is completely unknown and has not a single follower, because apparently they tried that before and quote: "they were so annoying."
"Right." Lena's eyes weren't on the other woman as she said it though. Instead, her attention was locked onto the innocent white flowers blooming against green leaves. Flowers which Lena had watched blossom before her very eyes—as if she had been watching a time-lapse. The apparent cause: Kara, leaning over the potted plant and blowing gently across its branches. "A goddess."
"Please don't tell anyone," Kara begged with a wince.
"I won't," Lena promised, mostly on reflex. To be honest, she didn't think she could find someone who would even believe her. Hell, Lena probably wouldn't have believed it herself if she hadn't just witnessed irrefutable proof of the divine first-hand.
Still, Kara seemed relieved by the assurance, as she let out a sigh and her shoulders lost their tension. "Thanks. It's, not really something I want getting out, you know? I mean, it's hard enough-"
"How?" Lena interrupted. She was yet to look away from the flowers. With a jerk of her arm, to wave in their direction, she clarified, "How did you..."
Kara blinked, seemingly caught off-guard by the question. "Oh." She glanced down at the potted plumeria, then back over to Lena and shrugged. "I dunno. I just, wanted it to happen and it did. Or asked it, or willed it, or something. I'm not sure, it's not really a science."
"You don't know," Lena echoed. "You don't... You don't know." She swallowed, mouth dry, still staring at the impossible flowers.
"Are you alright?" Without even looking, Lena knew from Kara's tone that a small crinkle had formed between her brow. Cautiously, Kara stepped closer.
"I'm fine," Lena told her, though her voice was too high even to her own ears. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding away as she stared at the plumeria flowers. The ones she'd seen blossom bloom right in front of her.
"...Would you like to sit down?"
"Yes please."
Several minutes later Lena sat at their small kitchen table, hands wrapped around a lightly steaming mug of herbal tea. It was Kara's own blend, the soothing effects of which she swore by. The thought occurred to Lena that Kara very possibly grew the leaves herself—just as she had the plumerias. Was the tea itself magical? Lena's grip on the mug tightened as she felt her thoughts beginning to spiral once more.
"You okay?" Kara asked, and Lena glanced up from her tea.
"Fine," she replied after a beat. "Just, processing."
"Take your time," Kara offered quietly. Lena nodded, and took a sip of her tea.
By the time her tea was half-gone, Lena felt steady enough to broach, "So. You're a goddess."
"Just a small one."
A small goddess. Right. Lena took a deep breath. "Okay. Where do you come from?"
"Uh... Greece? Thessaly, I think, but borders change. There was a small farming community near-"
"No," Lena interrupted, though she filed away the information. "I mean, where do you come from? Were you..." she gestured vaguely, "born?"
"Oh." Kara blinked, as though she'd never considered it before, and tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't think I was born, exactly. It's kind of fuzzy. The earliest memories I have are of people praying at my shrine. Over time it gets more distinct, but... I don't know. Maybe that's how gods are born, people pray hard enough and we start to exist."
That... made no sense at all, but it was enough of an explanation for Lena to pretend it did. Enough to shelve and move on from before it drove her insane. Instead, Lena directed her focus towards safer topics. "What are you the god of, exactly?"
For some reason, that question caused Kara's face to flush bright red. "Oh, you know," she said vaguely, avoiding Lena's gaze. "This and that. More of a, miscellaneous deity, really. Warmth, sunlight, mild summers. Crops. Um. New life."
"Fertility," Lena clarified, and Kara's blush grew even fiercer. "You're a fertility goddess."
"Not like that," Kara said firmly. Then the blush spread to her ears and she reluctantly amended, "Well, okay, yes like that but mostly just plants and animals. The, human fertility thing was very much a later addition."
"So what happened to you?" Lena asked, changing the subject partly for Kara's sake and partly to sate her own curiosity.
Kara's brow crinkled and she met Lena's eyes with mild confusion. "What do you mean?"
"What happened to you?" Lena repeated, and waved her arm generically at Kara. "You're a goddess. An actual, living goddess. Why are you masquerading as a broke college student when you could be, I don't know, having your followers wait on you hand and foot?"
Kara blinked, then scowled. "I am not broke."
"I've been paying your share of the rent for the last six months," Lena deadpanned.
"I'm going to pay you back!"
"Kara. I don't care about the money." Lena had cash to burn, and the joy of Kara's presence far outweighed the price of rent. "I just don't understand why you're here instead of, I don't know, ruling from Olympus or something."
"Okay well first of all," Kara told her, "I'm a minor goddess at best; I'm not ruling from anywhere. Second of all, losing my shrine and my followers was the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, sure, in the beginning it was nice. People would pray for good crops—or an easy pregnancy for their livestock—I do my thing, and come springtime they sacrifice a portion in my honor. It was nice."
"Then?" Lena pressed.
"Then I got popular," Kara said, spitting the word like it was a curse. "At first, it was just the one town. Then word spread, and people start traveling to see me. And they don't want me to bless their crops or their livestock, no. They want me to bless their pregnancies. Human pregnancies. Human conception. In my shrine."
Lena grimaced. "People were..."
"Yes." Kara's face was aghast as she stared into space, like she was reliving it first-hand. "While praying to me. Imagine strangers coming into your house and doing that in the middle of your living room. While calling your name." Kara shuddered. "Every time someone prays to me, I hear it. Doesn't matter where I am, or where they are, it's like a direct line into my brain."
"That sounds... horrifying," Lena agreed. "I can see why you're glad to be forgotten." She couldn't begin to imagine what that would be like—people constantly intruding on her life with their most intimate moments. Then, a memory struck her and Lena felt her own cheeks grow warmer as she recalled several... moments of indiscretion. Moments in which she may or may not have spoken the name of her extremely attractive roommate while otherwise... occupied. Clearing her throat, Lena found her mouth suddenly dry as she nervously asked, "Um. What... constitutes a prayer, exactly?"
The moment Kara's eyes met hers, Kara's blush returned in full force and Lena had her answer. "Um. Well it's sort of a- a broad definition," Kara stammered. "Hard to label, really. But, if you were to, um, address me—especially while... um, engaging in... certain activities—that would, uh, that would definitely count."
"Oh god." Lena buried her face in her hands, both to concral the burning heat she felt in her ears and to hide from Kara's gaze. "Just kill me now." Normally, Lena would consider death by mortification to be a bit of a stretch, but she'd just learned that gods were real so she was hoping for a miracle.
"I mean I'm flattered, obviously," Kara rushed to assure her. "You're absolutely gorgeous, anyone would be lucky to have you, um, think about them, like that. I just, figured you should know that I could actually... hear it."
"I'm going to jump off a bridge," Lena mumbled into her hands.
"Please don't," Kara begged, voice strained. "I mean if you don't want to be roommates anymore, that's fine. But I was actually hoping we could... maybe grab drinks, or something?"
Lena lifted her hands from her face—putting her imminent demise on hold so she could fix Kara with an incredulous stare. "Are you asking me out?"
"I mean you don't have to say yes," Kara added quickly. "It's fine if you don't-"
"Kara. You are a goddess-" "Minor goddess." "You must be thousands of years old-" "Three thousand." "Why the hell would you want to go out with me?"
"Because I like you," Kara answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. The sheer sincerity of it—the matter-of-fact tone in which it was delivered—stole whatever words Lena was going to say next. "I like making you smile, and laugh," Kara continued. "I like being there for you when your family is awful. I like watching you when you work, the way you get when you're focused on a problem. I like being the one who reminds you to take breaks, and helping you wind down after a long day. And I like making sure that your favorite flowers are always in bloom, so that you have something to look forward to when you come home."
A soft "Oh" was all Lena could think to say to that. Then, after a few moments she cleared her throat and glanced away. "Um, drinks, you said? There's uh‐ There's a new bar, down on Fifth. Sign said they do karaoke on Fridays."
Kara's face lit up and she beamed at Lena with the warmth of a thousand summers. "Sounds perfect."
the best part about it is that the art installation isn’t actually called the Bean. It’s called Cloud Gate, and artist Anish Kapoor (yes, THAT Anish Kapoor) hates that we call it the Bean.
Alright sit down for some Art World Drama bcause this is what I live for.
So, sometime last year (?) science invented Vantablack, which is the darkest possible shade of black. Art world got incredibly excited. But as it needs to be very carefully made in a lab, it’s hard to get a hold of, and is extremely expensive. Enter Anish Kapoor, aka FuckFace McGee. Anish Kapoor buys the rights to Vantablack. He is the only human being on the planet that can legally use it, and he’s kind of a prick about it.
Art world is not thrilled with that.
Enter Stuart Semple.
Stuart Semple is an artist, and also makes pigments to sell in his free time. Stuart Semple is astoundingly pissed about this Vantablack nonsense, and Anish Kapoor’s dickery. Stuart Semple makes a new pigment, the brightest shade of pink ever, called Pinkest Pink, and puts it for sale on the internet. To be bought by everybody except Anish Kapoor. Literally, to purchase, you need to confirm that you are not Anish Kapoor, do not associate with him, and will not sell or give the pigment to Anish Kapoor or his associates. Art world has a good laugh, everyone buys Pinkest Pink because it’s awesome, and damn it we deserve something.
Anish Kapoor however is a penis, and will not take this lying down, because HOW DARE he not have literally everything.
Anish Kapoor gets his London associates to buy him a thing of Pinkest Pink, and being such a classy human being, posts a picture to instagram of him with his middle finger covered in Pinkest Pink, captioned with “Up yours. #pink”
Everyone flips shit, because. Y’know. Fuck that guy. Especially Stuart Semple. For context here, Anish Kapoor is one of the richest artists on the planet, and has repeatedly been referred to as everything wrong with the art world, and the epitome of the art worlds elitism problem. He’s a giant douchebag. Meanwhile Stuart Semple makes pigments just to get them out there. He turns 0 profit from his now enourmously popular pigments.
Stuart Semple launches an investigation as to who the fuck leaked Pinkest Pink, and plans to strike back. He does so by releasing two new products. First is Diamond Dust, which is a glitter made from glass, so that a painting is still visible after it’s applied, but glitters like a mofo. It’s the most reflective glitter out there, and is available to everyone who isn’t Anish Kapoor. And it being made of glass, if you stick your finger in there, it’s going to hurt quite a bit, so that was Stuart Semple’s way of saying “shove your middle finger in this, asshole, see what happens”. Except without saying that, because he can get an insult across while still being fucking classy.
He also releases Black 2.0, created with the help of over a thousand artists worldwide.
Black 2.0 is the answer to Vantablack. Black 2.0 is a slightly less black black, but looks functionally the same to the human eye. It’s completely safe, smells like cherries, and costs four pounds. Vantablack is highly toxic, potentially explosive, needs to be applied in a special laboratory and sealed properly, can’t be moved across borders, can reach 300 degrees celsius if you’re not extremely careful, and costs thousands of dollars. Anish Kapoor is the only human being who can use Vantablack. He is the only human being who cannot use Black 2.0.
So I think we can guess who got the better deal.
And thus the feud ends, Kapoor defeated.
…But not quite.
Kapoor, in this entire afair, has made exactly two comments to the public. The first being his charming message about aquiring Pinkest Pink, the second being claiming to Buzzfeed that he and his small army of lawyers will be suing Semple, an extremely poor artist who cannot afford a lawyer.
No lawsuit has been made yet, fyi.
The point is, Kapoor is a prick, and doesn’t like talking to the lower classes. So one day in July 2017, he decides he needs another floor on his London studio apartment, and starts making arrangements to have it built. His neighbors are fucking pissed, because this will ruin the light of their apartments. They call to Semple to save them, or at the very least piss Kapoor off some more.
Semple answers to the call, and releases two new paints, Phaze and Shift, as always, banned to Kapoor. They change colours, Phaze with temperature, and Shift is just iridescent. Shift needs to be painted over Black 2.0 to work, and Phaze just works on its own.
So that’s been the art world for the last two years.
Basically, get fucked Anish Kapoor your bean sucks and so does your vantablack.
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