The center of the Ambra lamp collection is its table lamp. The whole collection is made of Cantera Rosa stone, a stone made of volcano ash and known for its softness.The stone is combined with a light reflecting copper part. David Pompa, the creator of this collection, that includes also a floor lamp and a wall lamp, is based in Mexico and Austria. The lighting set was presented at the Design Week Mexico 2017.
I know what my future will be. I’ll get work - quiet, single bloke at party, some swish loft apartment, music. I’ll be just right for the man who can’t quite get into the swing of things. Some young blonde lad’ll come over and start on me, “Oh, smile - it might never happen.” And that’ll be my cue to wag my finger, to lecture, tell them what went on, what WE went through. They’ll all listen, but it’ll be uncomfortable. They’ll all kind of exchange glances, let me say my piece, and then I’ll probably storm off. The blonde lad’ll say something funny to lighten the mood.
[…] If finger-wagging really is all I have to look forward to, then I’ll have a lot to work with. Have you heard? The Department of Health’s pulled its finger out - they’re going to print some information about AIDS in the papers - only Thatcher said no. They should just stick some posters up on lavatory walls, and leave it at that, because normal people can’t catch it, you see. And no-one wants to read about arse-fucking in The Sun, do they? The Sun: “When you mess with nature you’ve got it coming to you, mate.” The Sun: And we’ve got Private Eye telling us gay stands for “Got AIDS Yet?” That’s a good one, isn’t it?
The Met police raided the Vauxhall Tavern last week. The coppers were wearing rubber gloves to protect them from the gay plague. Stuff like that is happening to us. While hundreds of people die, our friends and our lovers, stuff like that is fucking commonplace. It feels like the world’s gone cold and mad. And I’ll bet you, years from now, if you want to get anywhere near this stuff on stage, you’ll have to do it tangentially, use some clever trick to keep things light, because, hey, being gay in the ‘80s was more than just AIDS, wasn’t it? Was that anger enough?
Can I prompt blind!Obi-Wan and what happened to him and crèche when he was a bby!Jedi?
Anon, they inspired each other:
Vulnerable/sad blind!Obi-Wan? He’s so wonderfully cheery and happy and
confident, I’d love to see how Anakin and/or the others would react to
Obi-Wan being insecure or even scared about something. Maybe flashbacks
to the acid attack could be involved? I leave it to your almighty
wisdom! Thank you for writing - you’re awesome!
“Yes well, let the guards handle him Anakin.” Obi-Wan chuckled
warmly, leaning on his cane with a content expression on his face.
“They’re here to do their job, we’re just here to deliver his
ass to the prison so the troopers can do the interrogation.” He
straightened and stretched slowly. “And then get back to the
“Aw, we can’t stop by Dex and get dinner?” Ahsoka pouted and
both Cody and Rex perked up hopefully.
“It wouldn’t be to bad of an idea Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon chuckled
while handling over his charge to the guards.
The blind man sniggered a bit. “You do enjoy Dex di-”
“Kenobi?” A raspy voice called out and Obi-Wan’s entire body
snapped into a tense line, hands gripping his cane with enough force
to whiten the knuckles. Milky green eyes stared out at nothing before
the man slowly turned to the voice.
The others traded looks of worry as a human roughly about Qui-Gon’s
age leaned on the bars of his cell, filthy gray hair pulled back in a
bun as he eyed the Jedi’s before grinning at them with broken
yellow teeth. “My my, it is the Jedi pup.” He rasped out a laugh.
“…Kroban.” Obi-Wan offered in a tense greeting. “I had no
idea you were transferred here.”
“Did some murders, superiors thought it was better to get me to a
high security facility. Never thought I’d see you again.” The man
leered at Obi-Wan and all of them tensed up as the mans eyes
flickered over him. “No idea you’d grow up to be such a pretty
thing. Might have hesitated scarring your pretty face if I did.
Though then again your lips are still pretty and pouty.”
Obi-Wan’s hands tightened on the hilt of his cane, jaw working
furiously. Qui-Gon reached out and rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s
back. “Obi-Wan, we should leave.”
“…Yes.” The blind Jedi turned and started walking.
“I got a nice view from here Kenobi.” The prisoner called out,
their ‘conversation’ reaching out through the suddenly silent
prison. “Good view of the temple.”
Obi-Wan didn’t answer, he continued walking.
Anakin settled a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder to keep them both
“I’m getting out in a few weeks!”
The copper haired man froze, staring straight forward.
“Parole. A mercy from the Senate to prove I’m ready to enter
society again!” There was a loud raspy laugh at that. “Might hit
you up when I get out Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan let out a tiny noise, only heard by Qui-Gon who was closest
and then legged it, his robe flaring out behind him as he ran and
dogged by the raspy laugh that haunted his nightmares far to often.
“Obi-Wan!” Anakin let go of his padawan to follow his brother
padawan, a stone in his stomach as he raced to keep pace.
Qui-Gon was left with the task of corralling both clone troopers and
padawan away from the prisoner so they wouldn't’ do something that
would get them landed in jail.
He caught up to the copper haired man by the door, hands clamping
down on the others wrist. He was promptly dragged into a maelstrom of
emotions and into Obi-Wan’s mind.
Confusing images of Coruscant, a group of Initiate following an older
Jedi as she showed them through the streets of their city. An
Anakin blinked and looked around. An art exhibition.
This was Obi-Wan’s memory, blurry from age. Colors muted because
Obi-Wan could no longer see colors and age had washed away details.
But this was an Initiate class taken on an excursion away from the
temple. And there was Obi-Wan, easily identified by his soft fluffy
copper hair among the others.
Bright souls in bright lights, no danger that they could sense and
one preoccupied Jedi as their guardian as someone from the public
came to the Jedi with a problem. Anakin quickly followed the class as
they moved through the gallery, looking at everything.
And then he saw Kroban, tracking the little ones.
Anakin’s heart jumped to his throat as he understood what memory he
Helpless to stop the man from approaching the Initiates. Helpless to
interfere as little Obi-Wan defended his age mates and sanding up to
the rightly identified danger. “Oh Obi-Wan no…” A sharp
backhand and the copper haired initiate hit the floor with a scream
of pain as vials in the mans hand broke open, finally alerting the
Jedi to the trouble the class was in.
But for Obi-Wan, it was already to late as he writhed on the floor,
hands covering smoking, burning face as he screamed as loudly as his
small six year old lungs could.
Anakin was jerked out of the memory to stare at Obi-Wan’s wide,
tear filled eyes. “…Obi-Wan…”
“Let go…let me go…” The blind man wheezed but there was no
way the blond would. He jerked the other into his arms and held him
as tightly as he could, feeling the usually so happy man tremble
against him as he let out a torrent of tears.
So maybe this is too much planning for some people but before I go to a nice restaurant on a POT date I always research the restaurant before.
Example: In DC There is a restaurant called “Kinship” and before I went on a date I already knew what meal I was going to order and a smidge of the restaurants history. This place was built in 1907 and has seasonal menus so I was able to slide in comments like “I heard they feature the Copper Salmon for two weeks in the spring, I guess ” or “I have heard amazing things about the 1978 Hess Collection Sauvignon” or some dumb shit like that. I know what I’m going to order or what wine I’m going to get before I even get out of my car. For restaurants I’ve never heard of, I look up the tag on Instagram and look at pictures people have posted there before. It’s always better to be overdressed than underdressed.
Don’t forget, no one is impressed you can do a keg stand or that one time you visited Florida and stayed at a Best Western. Have something of substance to say. Use your brain. Use every POT as an opportunity to learn.
And if the things he’s saying are about as interesting as an unbaked potato, make lots of eye contact, and do your best to pretend you care about anything other than his wallet. 💸
my gemsonas. one is a idealized form (wonder woman/samus aran physique), one is more accurate (a hunched over walking house coat with a love of material wealth). I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a six feet of amazonian muscle with 20/20 vision? picked iron pyrite by accident but hey, who’s to say there isn’t an alien race in SU that isn’t made up of metal people.