june

July 01, 2026

Things I enjoyed in the month of June:

Patricia Briggs', Smoke Bitten:

[Adam] huffed out a humorless laugh. "I promise that this is not an 'it's not you, it's me' speech." His eyes brightened to gold. "I won't let you go."
"Not your choice," I told him. "But as it happens, you'd have a hard time shaking me off. You are mine, and I'm pretty stubborn about things like that."
His whole body relaxed with an odd shudder. He closed his eyes. My stomach settled for the first time in a few days. We could work this out.
And then he said, in a voice that was not his own, "You'd leave if you knew what was inside me."
The wolf, I thought, after a weird moment. It was just Adam's wolf. We'd spoken a time or two. But it hadn't sounded quite right for the wolf.
"Nope," I told him—wolf and man. "Not happening."
[...]
"You are mine, [...] It doesn't matter if you live or die—you are still mine," I bit out. "Alpha werewolf, nightmare creature—I don't care. But don't you forget who I am. You gave yourself to me, and now you can't get away."


I don't know what it says about me as person, but I love when my firm foundation, nothing can rock them, sturdier than a Quercus robur couple-ship is experiencing marital woes. Nothing makes me happier than going through the whole process of getting them together, bumping along to something solid and unshakeable, and then tearing it to anguished little pieces, only to put it all back together again. I love it. Adore every second. Even the hardest parts. Because even though I'm also a big fan of fuss free relationships where there's no third act breakup, no miscommunication, and just a whole lot of heart-squishy cuteness (if you haven't read a book like this yet, I highly recommend, it's a dopamine hit second to none), sometimes it's fun to watch it all burn down just for the hell of it. Even a little singe, a tiny char that reestablishes your desperate need for these two fictional idiots to stay together in the imaginary aether forever and always and wherever next. And when you're on book twelve of an as-of-yet-no-confirmed-end-date shapeshifter series, it feels right to throw the married MC's a connubial curveball in the form of a closed off mating bond, emotional and physical withholding, a witch's curse, the monstrous inner self, and a shadow monster with the power to bodysnatch via a quick nip to the epidermis. I mean, how else would supernatural creatures sort their relationship out? Marriage counselling? Pfft. Not my mated morons, and thus why I love them so, and why this book made me immeasurably happy. A book I wasn't intending to start until a few reads later, but I caught myself yet again in the age old trap of the dreaded Reading Slump and desperately needed a literary ladder to climb my way out with before I gaslit myself any further into believing there was something wrong with me and not the subpar storytelling I was slurping into my brain like an out of date Capris Sun. Something I do far too often, proven by the fact that it's been three months since I've read a physical book that's brought me joy, ninety-six-ish days of being a stubborn fucker and not doing the smart thing: picking up a story I know there's no way I won't love, and enjoying my life again. ... I don't know why I punish myself for so long, maybe I'm a subconscious masochist with a misery kink? Who knows, but I do know the absolute reliable relief of opening the next chapter of Mercy and Adam's story. Cracking open the first page feels like a physical downpour, a soaking liberation that osmoses into the skin leaving an imprint of "home, home, home" behind and every page after echoing that tattooed sentiment. There's no place like the Tri-Cities area of Washington, Kennewick with the Thompson-Hauptman Pack while they're running around, fighting their various supernatural brethren (featuring one of my personal favourite fae legends in this one), and sorting their shit out while they do it.


"What kind of place is this?" asked Kent, sounding traumatized.
"The kind of place where fairy tales live," said Chen Li Qiang in a dreamy voice, "and monsters dwell."


It's the happiest place in the fictional world, and I truly wish my stupid brain would remember that more often so I wouldn't having a fucking breakdown every time I read a few "bad" books consecutively.
Damn my melodramatic, idiot brain, damn it to pedantic purgatory.

.............................................

June Jigs:

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Watching:
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
★★★★

Well, Ser Duncan the Tall and Egg have my allegiance for the rest of eternity.
Precious, precious small/tall boys.
#a knight of the seven kingdoms from don't you ever tame your demons but always keep 'em on a leash

I really, really liked this, and I think it's because it felt very much like the Game of Thrones world but a story entirely apart from that bleak intensity the shows normally go in for. GoT was always accidentally funny but it never consistently made me audibly laugh like the hijinks of Dunc and Egg, whilst retaining the hyper-violence and sheer dedication to the alt-historical speculative aesthetic the stories are known for. Which is something I didn't know I was looking for in regards to G.R.R. Martin's storytelling; I've always been pretty happy to wade through the misery with his rabble of dour and desperate characters, but being thrown into the pre-pre-Jon Snow era and gifted six episodes of levity was a really nice surprise.
Long may the misadventures of Ser Dunc and his small fry companion reign on. For at least a season or two. Please?
#akotsk from adorable pitfall
#a knight of the seven kingdoms from don't you ever tame your demons but always keep 'em on a leash
#a knight of the seven kingdoms from ★

Fanart:
kel alexander

Katja Å korjanc

Alexandria Monik

Prema-Ja


Lisa Frankenstein
★★★★

It's Heathers, it's Jennifer's Body, it's Beetlejuice and Edward Scissorhands, it's Death Becomes Her and Corpse Bride.
It's messy as fuck and I loved it.
Diablo Cody has a pretty direct route to my dopamine storage bunkers, ever since Juno and thereafter, she's been delighting my senses with her precocious fuckgirl protagonists who eat boys and fuck the patriarchy. She's basically written into my programming at this point, "honest to blog", and when you combine her quippy wit with the campness of the eighties, the majesty of Mary Shelley, and chuck my beloved scream queen goblin, Kathryn Newton in as the lead, I'm basically a reanimated pig in shit.
This is the bonkers kind of storytelling that makes my creepy little heart gurgle in delight.
It may not be perfect, it may have some narrative snarls, and it may prioritise its looks, but damn, I'd prioritise them, too, because they're so goddamn pretty.
Arrest me, I'm a slut for a camp horror aesthetic with tanning beds as restoration equipment, silent movie montages for no other reason than because, and gremlin weirdos falling in love amidst a sea of severed body parts.
It's my jam, and I won't apologise.
#userholtz from sorry baby x.
#lisa frankenstein from can't fight the seether

Fanart:
Kat Hudson

leloomi

Sid

Brian Gweon

Jack Razor

Bev Johnson

Boo West


The Bride!
Movie:★★★
Aesthetics: ★★★★★

Stylistically, The Bride! is a real stunner; a punk rock, Bonnie and Clyde, post-Prohibition-hued monster mashup tour de force that unapologetically rollicks from start to end, with brazen nods to its classic movie origins and the begetter of them all, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. From The Bride's shock of perma-frazzled, finger-waved locks, contrasted with the post-reanimation marks indelibly blotted on her skin as a kind of inversion to Elsa Lanchester's iconic coiffure, Jessie Buckley's Bride stands out as a monster all of her own, and does it with pizzazz. While, in contrast, Christian Bale's "Frankie" is very much the movie definition of Frankenstein's monster with his stapled forehead, geometrically solid cranium, droning diction, and the gait of one not entirely put together right. Together they make for a gorgeous calamity on the senses as they fight, fuck, and frolic their way across Midwestern America. They're a lucid dream, a waking nightmare that jolts new life into the Bride of Frankenstein mythos by updating the era, never turning down the tempo, and brandishing themes almost like weaponry. Which, in a way, feels purposeful, this thematic mĆŖlĆ©e; just as Frankenstein's monster is pieced together with disparate parts, so too is The Bride!'s, and it results in something jagged and frenetically beautiful to witness. None more so than Jessie Buckley as the eponymous Bride, who can be described only as a force of nature, a tornado, the flap of a moth wing, an earth-razing clap of astounding thunder as she hiccups between Ida, Pretty Penny, The Bride, and the spirit of Mary Shelley. It's a bewildering performance to watch; purposefully uncomfortable, devastating in its vulnerability, thrilling and frightening as Buckley untethers and clutches and lashes out with whip-wild accuracy. She's impossible to catch hold of and it makes you desperate to pin her down, pierce her through like a butterfly splayed forever in glass, just so you can take a hearty look. How sad that would be, though, to secure her great and ghastly wings simply so we could discover her secrets, as compelling as they may be. And this is where the movie fails us, by gifting the audience a character like The Bride and never setting her free. She's a woman used by men, killed by men, resurrected at the request of men,  and trapped eternally as the other half of yet another fucking man; three things she never asked for, was never given a choice over, and the movie refuses to deal with it, instead posing The Bride's reinvigoration as some violent, "feminist" renaissance. It doesn't ask her what she wants, no matter how many times she utters the words "I care not to", it doesn't give her options or choices, it doesn't even give her a fucking name. She could choose any title she wanted as a reborn being, any moniker to befit her as the impossible, immortal being that she is, but instead she stays The Bride. She may have severed the "of Frankenstein" qualifier, but she remains one half of another as the eternal, faceless idol of matrimony, and that minimises her identity. It misses the entire fucking point!
This is why Mary Shelley doesn't go through with making the Monster his Bride in the book, why she deprives him of that unholy union, because it would be yet another violation of women's autonomy, and The Bride! forgets that entirely, choosing artsy, showoffy aestheticism (which I loved) in place of depth and the audacity of being a woman alive and in spite.
If this movie had been a madcap, murderous adventure through the land of the free and totally fucked, or chosen to actually delve into what it means to be a woman remade in a society that actively wants her dead, then maybe this could've been something other than a pretty flicker. But alas, no matter the audaciousness of Jessie Buckley's performance, or the visuals that rocked me sideways, upways, and all the ways, a revolutionary moment in feminist cinema  The Bride! is not.
Alas, fucking alas.


Rivals season two, part one
★★★★

...
NOVEMBER.
I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL NOVEMBER?!
Ohhhh, that is some fuckery, right there.
Pure tv industry bullshit. Who decided on midseason breaks, anyway? What sadistic muppet of a toddler-man (because you know it was some cis white guy who decided this) billionaire thought that was a stellar idea?
I'd like a word with the douche canoe who's keeping me from six more episodes of Aidan Turner's moustache filling my screen with more potency than a werewolf in rut. Just a quick word, maybe a few slaps upside the head to knock some goddamn sense into them, because this edging shit is just cruel.
I am the Cookie Monster, I do not believe in delayed gratification, only slutty little stashes on filthy Irish men.


Project Hail Mary
★★★★★
(★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★)

Amaze! Amaze! Amaze!
a picture of a crab with the words " maze maze maze " below it

I was trying to figure out why I enjoyed this so much, why, when I'm not the biggest sci-fi fan in the world (with notable exceptions) this hit all my movie-loving, speculative fiction-adoring buttons, and it's because it's so many things at once:

šŸ¦Š A really good fucking story that isn't afraid to be silly or vulnerable but doesn't shy away from the intensity of Ryland, Rocky, and their worlds' plight.
šŸ¦Š The visuals are an actual dream with their vibrant colours contrasted against the expected cool tones of space tech, which are enhanced by the sets being entirely real (with complementary VFX) and stocked to the brim with practical effects (this renaissance of filmmakers using PE's makes me uncontrollably giddy) that bolster every moment of the film with texture and tangibility.
šŸ¦Š Ryan Gosling is his most affable self as he charms the pants off the audience with unexpected naivety, humour, and heartbreaking gumption as the space hero you didn't know you needed. Ryland Grace is a protagonist like no other and Gosling plays him so vibrantly. I've missed this version of Gosling, who I've been a fan of since he was just a baby goose back in Remember the Titans; I'd forgotten how much he makes me laugh without even trying, and how much he makes me root for whatever character he's inhabiting at the time, and none quite as much as Ryland Grace. This might be his finest hour, and I'll never get over him in Lars and the Real Girl or Drive, so that's saying something. A lot, a lot of something.
šŸ¦Š Rocky. The amazing, estimable, bossy-pants Rocky, who it just blows my mind that he isn't real. It's the Muppet effect of puppetry, where you can see the hand shoved inside attached to the puppeteer's body, but it doesn't matter because human accessory or not, that puppet is real af. Rocky is real and alive and you can't convince me otherwise, and the skill to make that phenomenon occur is something truly special, perhaps even magic. I'm so glad they didn't make him CGI; all the accolades to James Ortiz for bringing this craggy little guy to life, the movie simply wouldn't have been the same without them crashing into walls and soft-bullying Ryland.
šŸ¦Š The score is a mishmash that relates to the scene, rather than an overarching montage, and I really loved that. I'm a big fan of scores, to me the music in movies is vital to the storytelling, the veritable heartbeat of plot, and normally the scheme of it is wholly cohesive, varying by degrees depending on the emotion of a scene. That's standard, the classic way of scoring movies, but Project Hail Mary did something different by using various scores that somehow were entirely different and oftentimes elbowing each other out the way for dominance, but at the same time existing, inexplicably but incredibly pleasingly, complimentary to one another. I kept finding myself paying extra attention to which piece of music would score which scene and it elevated the experience to something, well, otherworldly. I'm still humming sections of it weeks later.
šŸ¦Š The way it's kind of the same plot as Sunshine, which is one of those notable exceptions I have about enjoying Sci-Fi movies, but takes the brutality of that dying sun and makes it something joyful and funny and so full of hope.
image

Which is probably the deep down, core-based reason I love this movie to the unhinged extent I do. I can't remember laughing so much during a SF movie when it wasn't a parody like Spaceballs or a pastiche like Galaxy Quest, whilst simultaneously being so full of anticipation and terror that I was full on clutching arms at one point, demanding to be spoiled (something I never want to be) because I couldn't take not knowing. But even during those turbulent moments where I had no idea how this solar problem could possibly be solved by these two gorgeously hapless creatures, the joy endured, prevailed even, and that feels special. An experience that will stay in my crotchety heart for a long, long time.
image

I thought I was going to get The Martian 2, which wouldn't've been bad, but I got so much more.
And a ton of fanart:
The Friendly Pigeon

Rissa!

Basil

Katja Å korjanc

maali

emma

oddlybuddy

Jo Yee Leong

Starling Abyss

hukaka

Can Richards


Your Monster
★★★½

This one's for the theatre brats with fear boners for the monster under their bed and zero fucks left for their toxic ex.
#melissa barrera from a haunted house with a picket fence

Loved it.
I'll take a bushel more.
#melissa barrera from a haunted house with a picket fence


Keep the Aspidistra Flying
★★★★

My favourite flavours of Richard E. Grant and Helena Bonham Carter have always been feckless twat and arch baddie.
And while this might not be the finest example of their skills, it was still a pretty fun time watching them carouse through Orwell's satirical tale of artistic integrity and anti-consumerism.


Dangerous Liaisons
★★★★★

I'm trying to fill some gaps in my filmic repertoire, and this one feels almost criminal to not have seen until now, especially when everyone's so hot, prone to the horny-eye, and entirely, delightfully fucked up.
Oh, how I yearn for the good old days of muted, pastel-hued historical movies where the film stock is textured, the music's extravagant, the acting's completely fearless, and nothing feels like it was made for the clock app masses and lit with ring lights. Nothing would made me happier than to watch Glenn Close viciously and elegantly declare "War" against her ride or die bestie; or gad about the halls of some ornate, French palace with Malkovich as he gleefully fucks his way through Le Monde, one bosomy aristocrat at a time. Not an anachronism in sight, nor a half-arsed story played out, just pure, unadulterated heathenism amidst the wealthy and the depraved.
Can't lie, though, I prefer Cruel Intentions ending.

Ps. Aidan Turner recently took to the stage for his turn as the Vicomte de Valmont alongside the glorious Lesley Manville, and I'd pay good money to see that fine ass man be messy as fuck with her royal crush-worthy-ness.
So much money.


Tale of Tales
★★★★½

Have you ever watched something and just known it was made from the blanched bones of your body, the permeable pink of your epidermis, the crescent peek of your lunula? 

Watching Tale of Tales felt like being reunited with fragments of myself I didn't know I'd lost until they were stitched together again in the shape of three intersected, ouroboric tales that are gruesome, libidinous and unflinchingly cruel. They're Angela Carter by way of Panna a netvor in the style of Tarsem Singh, Guillermo Del Toro, and Neil Jordan at their moodiest, they're how the original fairy tales were supposed to be told. I long for stories like this, for modern, fairy tale storytelling to not only hark back to its pernicious origins but adorn those glittering slippers, at the ready for the pedorthic chopping block. And often authors/directors promise these things, tease the grisly and unspeakable, but inevitably fail to deliver from fear of tapping into that ugly, blasphemous wellspring and offending the increasingly prudish masses, laving them sanitised and editorialised. And when you do this, you rob them of their humanity, of their relatability, but Tale of Tales doesn't do this, instead embracing the grim allegories these stories should and always have tried to convey, because when you strip back the film's glossy, contrasty-hued veneer, what's left but:


šŸ«€A queen so desperate for a child she'll do anything to have one ➡ the trauma of miscarriages, the trials of IVF/surrogacy, the ticking clock that is uterine biology

šŸ«€A princess sold by her father into a violent marriage who only has herself to rely on, to survive, to escape ➡ rape culture, the sex trade, misogyny, arranged marriages, bodily autonomy

šŸ«€Two elderly women shunned for their faded beauty and desirability, and the price they pay for both having it and losing it ➡ pretty privilege, ageism, sexism, cosmetic surgery, the poisoned pond of Hollywood and its effect on the everyday person

Take any fairy tale, myth, fable, and at its core you will find stories that are reaching out through time - past, present, future - to highlight the pain and the beauty of being fucking alive.
All Tale of Tales does is wrap them up in a spectacularly gorgeous bow.
So good; I'm so mad it's taken me ten years to watch this.

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Quarterly Romance Faves | April - June:

šŸ’˜ Ivy Owens, Scandalized


movie star romance

childhood bff’s big brother

interracial couple

plucky reporter x sweater boy heartthrob 

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Eris Adderly, Bass-Ackwards


workplace romance

copulative coercion

grumpy introvert daddy x prickly blonde cat

he falls first

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ B.K. Borison, First-Time Caller


sleepless in seattle vibes

hopeless romantic x jaded sweater boy

forced proximity

a leap of love

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Tessa Bailey, The Sweetest Fix


sugar bomb

lust at first sight

v-day shenanigans

broadway manic pixie dream girl x grumpy antisocial baker

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Jessica Joyce, A Risk Worth Taking


christmas romance

three night forever stand

snowed in seduction

stay or go?

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Mazey Eddings, Lizzie Blake’s Best Mistake


sunshine chaos gremlin x awkward sweater boy

accidental pregnancy trope

two night forever stand

ADHD rep

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Roxie Noir, Reign


PTSD rep

royal romance

interracial couple

gremlin american menace x sovereign slavic smoke-show

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Kali Decker, Starf**ker


grizzly daddy actor x dtf screenwriter brat

celebrity romance

bisexual rep

kinkmates

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Talia Hibbert, A Girl Like Her


autism / domestic violence rep

interracial couple

neighbourly nookie

pyjama-clad grumpy nerd x captain america golden retriever

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Tessa Bailey, Heat Stroke


mlm romance

gay-awakening / secret dating

summer seduction

brainy storm cloud x sunshine golden retriever

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


 šŸ’˜ Hannah Bonam-Young, People Watching


sunshine flirt-monster x grumpy wallflower

bisexual / chronic illness rep

small town romance

hurt / comfort

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Adriana Anders, Dom-Com


kink-lite

office romance

sex, secrets & stationery

sunshine subby brat x stern brunch dom

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Kathryn Nolan, High Heat


baseball poly mfm romance

love at first pitch

forced proximity

sir & his brats

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Ali Hazelwood, Not in Love


enemies to endgame

unstated autism / ED rep

STEM workplace romance

prickly black cat x c*ntstruck sweater boy

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Sarah T. Dubb, Honey Bee Mine


feisty bee whisperer x reformed bad boy sweetheart

small town romance

will you bee mine?

do-over dalliance

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Tessa Bailey, Mouth to Mouth


my job is beach

summer seduction

love at first near accident

bookworm introvert babe x bad boy alpha-mallow

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Sierra Simone, Saint


reformed playboy novice x sweater boy journo

forced proximity / second chance / bbbff

mlm interracial romance

sex, sanity & sacrament

dual-ish POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ KT Hoffman, The Prospects


adhd / anxiety rep

trans mlm romance

sportsball entanglement

sunshine menace x anxious sweater boy

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Alexandra Vasti, Ladies in Hating


ladies of letters, lust & love

the haunting of hottie house

prickly darling x arch sweetheart

wlw historical paranormal romance

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Alison Cochrun, The Charm Offensive


depression / anxiety / panic disorder / real OCD rep

hopeless romantic puppy x anxious cinnabun nerd

mlm demisexual interracial romance

forced proximity

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Tessa Bailey, S’more of You


camp carousing

mutual yearning

dramatics and miscommunications

prankster sunshine brat x grumpy nature nerd

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Anita Kelly, Love & Other Disasters


chaotic ray of sunshine x grumpy storm cloud

non-binary romance

talk foody to me

pansexual rep

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½


šŸ’˜ Kali Decker, Nepo Baby


bisexual rep

age gap desi romance

one night to forever stand

ingƩnue nepo brat x seasoned actor daddy

dual POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️


šŸ’˜ Sally Thorne, Rosie and the Dreamboat


cinnamon roll fireman x plant gremlin

jokes & therapy sesh

sunshine & hot mess

love at first voice?

single POV

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️




Bonus fanart for KT Hoffman's, The Prospects by Sarah Corrente:


Genuinely, just can't recommend this book enough, it's so good and Gene and Luis are absolute life ruiners.

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Podcasting:

I'm not really a podcast person.
A podling, if you will (and I will because that's adorable), not because of disinterest or disdain, but simply because I don't have the required attention span to listen to someone talk while I just sit there, I dunno, breathing. Can't do it. Not even with audiobooks, and I've always found the radio distinctly impossible to focus on. There's something missing in my brain chemistry that enables me to enjoy these particular auditory pastimes, as much I might want to, and that's always bummed me out a bit because other people get so much pleasure from them.
Until now, that is, when I discovered that de-mossing the wooden decking in the garden was very much not a "listen to the birds and chill" situation, but a "put on some goddamn background noise before your brain eats you alive" situation (silence and asmr is deadly poisonous to neurodivergent, depression-prone, anxiety-riddled creatures; we need stimuli). And so, my podcast era finally arrived, and it's been hella fun, if a little predictable in my choices: books, authors, and folktales. You couldn't find three more "me" topics, but it'd be cool to branch out whilst this hyperfixation lasts, which may only be until I've completed the moss purge, and I want to make the most of funnelling facts I probably won't remember into my brainpan Homer in Hell style. So, if anyone has any topic suggestions, please recommend, I'm open to just about anything, as long it's not sport or cephalopods. You can keep your tentacles and sportsball to yourself!
a group of people are watching a game and one of them is saying " hooray he 's kicked the ball

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Free Will Movie Watching | Part Two:

I finally watched the Tangerine Dream-scored Legend.
...
Abysmal.
The movie-bro of musical accompaniment that sucked all the life out of the story (which was altered in the most random of ways), and I wish I hadn't heard it. I'm genuinely offended.
Jerry Goldsmith's twinkly fairy tale score forever!
image

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Artist Spotlight:
Taryn Knight

Ross Cairney

The Yolk Bros

Selmer

Indi

Lydia Croft

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