#old timey drug reference

[toadalled]

Quail Lewd

[xodrucifer]

here's how i think the creeps smoke and what some of them are like when they're high

i like to think that the pastas with non-physical bodies, or non-human bodies can’t get physically harmed really bad, so doing stuff like drugs doesn’t affect them negatively that much. with me saying that, please don’t take this as inspiration to go do drugs. you are not a creepypasta. you have a physical body ( probably ) and please don’t go do drugs because of this post. anyway, here’s how i think the creeps have a fun saturday night. i am not liable for anything ever.

---

Jeff: it’s well known on this blog that this bastard will smoke anything, out of anything, with anything, that he can get his dirty fucking hands on. he doesn’t consider himself a stoner, but he will smoke with someone is invited. or alone, he doesn’t care. i think his favorite drugs are edibles that have like 200mg in them. he eats them all. absolutely fucks them up. then he lays on the living room couch, stoned out of his mind, watching pastas come in and out from their assigned jobs. he thrives knowing that he’s liked just enough by slender to sit on his ass and watch everyone else work. probably vapes too, enjoys menthol and mint flavors most but secretly enjoys fruity flavors, specifically white peach and strawberry. also smokes cigarettes a lot, but nowhere near as much as tim or brian. jeff loves the burn they give in his lungs. when high, he's much more impulsive, much more offensive, much more violent, and just overall more of a jerk off.

BEN: ben definitely vapes as his main choice of getting high; he’s the type of kid in school who skips class to go vape and fiend in the bathroom with the upperclassmen. he knows how to do tricks, how to hold the vapor in hella long, and loves trying to hit multiple vapes at once. i’m talking 4 through his mouth, 1 through his nose all at once. his go to flavors are fruity flavors and his favorite types are geek bars, referred to as “ the geekers. “ loves orange creamsicle, raspberry peach, and mango flavors the most. also smokes weed when he’s home; prefers to smoke with blunts or carts but has a fancy bong that he’s incredibly protective of. smokes indica-type strains mostly, and his favorite time of day to smoke is late night-early morning. he doesn’t mind smoking alone but loves to smoke with jeffery or toby. loves to try to get toby as baked as humanly possible. sometimes, rarely, once in a blue moon type of rare, tim will smoke with ben if he’s had a really boring day. brian and dark link are also regulars during ben’s smoke sessions. silver likes to sit in and hang out too but never joins in. ben would probably have sex high, maybe i’ll make another post about that. the hardest thing he’s ever done was molly, had a really weird trip so now he only sticks to vaping and smoking weed. 

toby: he seems like he’d smoke cigarettes the most, but i also like to think that he smokes weed and vapes pretty often. gets his cigarettes from tim, either buying them off him or stealing them. doesn’t have his own weed stash, so he goes to smoke with ben instead and fiend off him. toby has an abnormally high thc tolerance, so it takes a little bit more to get him high, and ben always takes this as a challenge to see how stoned he can get toby. likes minty-flavored vapes, specifically juuls and geekbars. he’s the type of high to sit around and be lazy, be laid back and flirty, and say and do stupider things than usual. the hardest thing he’s ever done was molly with ben, his trip wasn’t as weird and was pretty dope in his opinion, he’d do it again. tries to smoke multiple cigarettes at once, fails and almost throws up.

slenderman: doesn’t smoke often, but has a box of old-timey cigars he keeps on him at all times that he will rarely smoke. he likes the smell of cigars and cigarettes but isn’t fond of the smell of weed that lingers in the Manor halls. 

masky: likes his cigarettes, prefers marlboro reds but will smoke any kind. he’s been smoking since his late teens so sometimes he’s got a raspy voice and rough smokers cough that makes you jump if it’s quiet. doesn’t care much for weed, but will smoke with hoodie and ben if he’s had a boring day, or if he’s feeling nostalgic. has hit ben’s vape a couple times, doesn’t mind it and would buy his own if desperate for a buzz and didn’t have his cigarettes on him. ben pays him to buy his vapes and weed since he’s obviously over 21, and in turn he gets ben to pay for his cigarettes. the hardest thing he’s done is coke, tweaked out incredibly hard and then swore to never do it again. 

Hoodie: not as heavy of a cigarette smoker as tim is, but still runs out of packs pretty quick. smokes weed more often with ben and jeff than any other person, prefers to smoke it early morning so he can unwind from his workday. he’s the type of high to get really philosophical and have deep conversations, and still wonder about them days after. has hit ben’s vapes but doesn’t really care for it, likes the minty ones more than others but still prefers cigarettes. sometimes buys ben’s stuff if tim can’t get it in exchange for free weed. will smoke multiple cigarettes at once and not throw up. the hardest thing he’s done was pills, has a pretty bad addiction but got himself out of it with tim’s help.

eyeless jack: i can’t see him smoking weed or vaping, or even cigarettes that often. maybe a cigarette every once in a while, but that’s only if he’s stressed out and it’s a really specific setting, or he just barely saved someone’s life and he needs to relieve that build-up. most likely smoked weed a little bit and experimented during college, although never wanted to do anything to hard due to personal experiences with friends and family doing it. the hardest thing he’s ever done was secretly acid, had a terrible trip and will never touch it again. 

laughing jack: has done meth before, would probably do it again. 

clockwork: she’s a cigarette girl. loves her cigarettes, laughs at ben’s tutti-frutti flavored vape. smokes a lot with tim and brian in the shop, the littered cigarette butts on the ground are hers by a significant amount. the hardest thing she’s done is molly, enjoyed her trip and would do it again probably. 

dark link: loves to smoke weed with ben, that’s his preferred way to get high. doesn’t care much for cigarettes cause he doesn’t like the smell, but does enjoy ben’s menthol vapes. loves bongs and joints equally, but loves blunts the most. likes carts a lot too, and will take edibles like they’re candy. he’s the type to get high and get really really flirty, but did we expect anything less from dark? likes to get crossfaded too, but doesn’t ever remember the night before when he wakes up, but ben and his trusty cameras do. the hardest thing he’s ever done is so many shrooms that he thought he was in hell. 

glitchy red: prefers weed and vaping over cigarettes, and only likes getting high at night in a group or with at least one other person. fiends off of ben’s vapes, and likes the fruity flavors, specifically strawberry or kiwi. prefers to smoke weed out of bongs or pipes, but will settle for carts or joints. he’s the type of high to also get really flirty and would have sex while high as well. would probably be more experimental too. also really lazy when he’s high, just wants to sit and chill and eat a bunch of food. the hardest thing he’s done is probably shrooms. And the trip was alright. 

lost silver: i don’t see him smoking really at all out of shyness and no urge to do it. nobody pressures him, and he doesn’t see the point, so he just kinda hangs out when people are smoking, preferably ben. he has hit ben’s vapes a couple times, didn’t mind the minty flavors but just doesn’t see the enjoyment in it. has hit ben’s bong once, and one hit was enough for him to almost green out. 

nina: she LOVES her girly flavored vapes. doesn’t care much for cigarettes or weed, but will smoke ben’s bong in exchange for gossip she hears around that he hasn’t picked up on yet. loves hitting ben’s tutti-frutti vapes, and will chief his dead ones from him. likes strawberry, pina colada, and white grape the most. when she’s high she gets really energized and talkative and will yap your ear off. ben is her vape plug, she tells him what she wants and he sends tim out to get it. hardest thing she’s done i imagine could be acid or shrooms.  

[belovaballerina]

Everybody's Looking for Something

Hazbin Hotel: Alastor x platonic!reader

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.6 k 

Prompt: Sweet Dreams for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Brief mention of past drug use, mention of a car accident, angst, Alastor having nefarious plans

Summary: Hell claims your soul and Alastor offers a helping hand

You don’t remember the pain; all you can recall is the blackness as it swallowed you up while the broken glass splattered onto the asphalt. You felt swallowed by the abyss, an endless falling as your limbs flailed in the hopeless attempt to grab onto something. Finally, you hit solid ground as the smell of burning flesh hit your nose. The acrid smell of sulfur made you gag. A deep groan rumbled through you while you slowly sat up to peer around your new surroundings. Brimstone crunched beneath you. A smoky haze clung to the air, making breathing hard, which you thought was rather silly. You were clearly dead; did you even need to breathe anymore?

“Salutations! My, my, where did you come from?” 

The dulcet tones of the voice felt oddly soothing yet there was something in the tone that made the hairs stand up on your arms. It reminded you of the old black and white movies you watched with your parents as a child—Old-timey, a throwback to the past, yet a touch unearthly. You pressed up onto your palms, blinking your eyes a few times. Even in the dark, murky haze, you could make out the malicious grin, teeth spiked and dangerous in the widely stretched mouth. The figure was tall and slender, looming over your sprawled body with black antlers perched in the middle of their fluffy hair. Was this a man? No…it had to be a demon, right? This was Hell, after all.

“Uhhh…from above?” you replied, pointing your finger upward, “Can you tell me where I am?”

“Why, you’re in hell, of course! Up above, you say? I suppose that makes you a human sinner or a fallen angel then, though I would assume the former. A fresh soul.” An eerie green light flashed around the demon as they seemed to grow taller.

Your heart sank as you took in their words. You should have known, should have figured it out. Given the life you were living and how you crashed through the windshield as drugs pulsed through your system, you weren’t surprised this was your fate. How could you even be deemed worthy of heaven?

“Yeah…guess you must be right. Can I ask your name?”

“Only if you’ll give me yours in return. I’m Alastor, my dear. Now let’s get you off the filthy ground,” the creature chirped, the sharp smile still plastered on his face. 

You told him your name as he extended his arm, offering you a gloved hand. “Thanks,” you murmured as you were pulled to your feet. You felt chilled to your bones even as heat blazed through this place.

“Come now, I know the perfect place for you,” Alastor stated, offering you his arm. While it probably wasn’t wise to go off with a stranger, what other choice did you have? Navigating hell by yourself seemed…stupid, or so you surmised from the screams echoing through the air. Better the devil you knew. Not that you really knew him., but he seemed the safest option.

“So are you a demon or ….” you asked, slipping your arm through his and letting him guide you away. You thought if he wished to harm you, he would have done so by now.

“Indeed I am, darling. They refer to me as the radio demon around here.”

A soft laugh fell from your lips, as Alastor tilted his head in a way that made your nerves stand on edge.

“Sorry…but that’s exactly what your voice reminds me of! I was thinking old movies, but radio dramas suit you much better,” you explained, feeling your cheeks grow hot.

His delighted chuckle chimed through the air and put you at ease. “Oh, you and I are going to be great pals, I can tell.”

Not much else was said as he helped you navigate the streets until you arrived at a hotel, blinking as you took in its sheer size and the neon sign buzzing overhead.

“I never would have guessed Hell would have a hotel,” you said in shock.

“My dear, you’ll discover we have all sorts of clever things down here. I have…friends who reside here and help to run it. Think of it as a safe haven.”

You clung tightly to his arm as you followed him inside.

“Hey Al! You’re back, and you brought a stray! What’s your name, gorgeous? I haven’t seen you around these parts before,” a spider-like creature asked, giving you a wink.

“A new arrival to our humble abode,” Alastor explained.

You nearly shrieked as a small creature with one eye scuttled under you.

“You are filthy! Dirty, dirty girl,” she cackled, her clawed fingers tugging at your clothing.

“Why don’t you draw a nice hot bath for our newest guest, Niffty dear?” Alastor suggested, and you watched in awe as the creature ran off, her tiny arms waving wildly in the air.

“A drink will help take the edge off. I’m Angel, by the way,” the fluffy pink and white spider creature said, shoving a shot glass into your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Angel. I’m lucky Alastor here found me,” you murmured before downing the liquor.

“Not sure luck has anything to do with it,” you heard a deep voice mutter, your gaze following the sound before landing on a winged cat creature. You might need another shot to process all this.

“Oh, Husker, what a jester,” Alastor sneered.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a cheery voice chimed, and you watched a tall, horned blonde dash down the stairs before throwing their arms around you, “I’m Charlie!”

You were shocked at first before discovering you enjoyed her hug. It certainly wasn’t the type of behavior you expected in hell.

“I hope it’s ok, Alastor brought me here,” you whispered, gently patting her back.

“Of course! Our doors are always open, especially to those who want to redeem their souls!” she explained.

“Is that possible?” you asked.

“Of course! Well…at least, I think so!”

“Wow, that’s really cool. Sounds like Alastor brought me to the right place,” you smiled as Charlie beamed.

“He sure did!” she exclaimed.

“Lots of other nasty demons and overlords roaming those streets. You at least ended up with the right one,” Angel said before taking a long pull from a bottle of whisky.

Husk raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you momentarily before returning to cleaning up the bar he stood behind.

“Your bath is ready, filthy, diry girl!” Niffty shouted, dangling from the banister.

“Allow me to escort you to your room,” Alastor offered, guiding you up the sprawling staircase.

The room was decent enough and clean, and the steam swirling around the air beckoned to you.

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, surprised when he took hold of your hand.

“Truly my pleasure, dear. Enjoy your bath,” he hummed before leaving you.

The hot water felt soothing against your skin as you soaked in the bath.

“Hello, hello, I promise I’m not looking! I just brought you some fresh clothes. None of mine will fit you, but you seem the same size as my girlfriend, Vaggie! Ohhh, I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Charlie bristled, dumping a pile of clothes onto your bed.

“Thank you, Charlie. You’ve been super nice, everyone has…which is surprising for a bunch of…”

“Demons?” she finished for you, chuckling softly, “We’re a unique bunch.”

“I can tell, but I think I’m gonna like it here.”

“Oh, that makes me so happy I could burst! You must be special if Alastor brought you here! Ok, enjoy your bath!”

You stayed in the tub until the water grew cold and your skin was scrubbed clean; the faint odor of sulfur still lingered behind. Once you were dry, you picked out a pair of black leggings and a red top to put on, thankful this Vaggie preferred a more subdued color palette. You settled on the bed, closing your eyes for a moment until a knock came at your door.

“It’s Alastor, my dear, I’ve brought some food for you.”

“Oh, come in,” you called out and watched as he entered, pushing a food cart over to your bed, 

“Something simple, dear, but you need to keep your strength,” Alastor explained as he lifted the lid off the tray, “A soothing, homemade chicken noodle soup.” The aroma made your mouth water and stomach rumble.

“Thanks, smells delicious,” you whispered, scooting to the edge of the bed before picking up the spoon and savoring the hot liquid. With each taste, the realization of everything that happened hit you like a ton of bricks. You were dead and stuck in Hell. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks, splashing onto the white linen the soup bowl rested on.

“Now, now, there’s no need for tears,” Alastor tutted, sitting next to you and rubbing your back.

“S…sorry. It just all hit me at once,” you sniffled, swiping your hand under your dripping nose.

“You just need a good night’s rest. Come, let’s tuck you in.”

You allowed Alastor to move you under the sheets, tucking the blanket securely under your chin before he patted your head.

“My mother used to sing me to sleep, I found it most comforting,” he smiled, his eyes flickering and softening momentarily.

“That sounds nice,”  you whispered, blushing as he began to sing to you. His voice was soothing yet haunting simultaneously.

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you 

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

His voice was incredibly comforting, curling over you like a warm, fluffy blanket and bringing you peace. Closing your eyes, you slowly drifted off to dreamland, sighing softly. You were out like a light by the time Alastor finished the pleasant little ditty. One clawed hand smoothed down your hair before a tentacle wrapped around your throat.

“Sweet dreams, my dear. Soon enough, your soul will be mine.”

[pumpkinfreak]

Plastic Man Issue #2 1941

This is a great second issue except for the racism toward the Chinese, but I'll get to that.

Plas is trying hard to get hired by the local police squad, and Murphy the Police chief is willing to let him on the force if he can break up a dope ring. The dope their referring to is opium. It's old-timey times every drug is called dope.

Plus, as Eel O'Brien, finds his old gangster friend Dopey Joe. How the police haven't thought to interrogate this man before is beyond me. It's like being a serial killer named Kill Kill McStabface. Dopey is more than happy to let Eel in on his drug smuggling ring, which requires him to travel to Canada.

Here's how the drugs are smuggled into the States.

Eel goes to Ottowa. Fun fact The City TM is only an overnight train ride away from Canada. In Ottowa Eel goes to a funeral home where opium is stashed inside a dead body. Eel traveled back to the States in a hearse with the body. He drops the body off at another funeral home, and the funeral director then passes the drugs to a woman.

The woman then passes the drugs by throwing them from her car into another car. The driver then arrives at a nondescript building and drops the opium tablets down a drainage grate outside of the building. The building is of course the opium den.

That is a seven-step process, and it's so fun to read and then the racism happens. It's painful but thankfully it only lasts for six panels and you can skip it, just know Plas captures the workers inside the den.

He then collects the other players in the ring including the woman, yes he does threaten to knock out this woman if she doesn't cooperate. I shouldn't laugh at that but I do every time. It's just funny to see Plas, not Eel, tell a woman he'll "Lay you out cold!"

It's like he hasn't figured out how to talk to people in a none gangster way. He hasn't quite worked out the chivalry part of being a hero. Then again sometimes you gotta knock a bitch out depending on the situation, and Plas is the guy to do it.

So Plas rounds up everyone and is instated as a Police officer. Yes, the man in the red leotard, with no real first name, is made an officer of the law.

They gave this man a gun

[safarigirlsp]

Wicked Fairytales

My fun little series in which I give my own twisted twist on some classics.

Bah Humbug

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Kylo Ren x Reader

Charlie Barber x Reader

Clyde Logan x Reader

Henry McHenry x Reader

Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Commander Mills x Reader

Word Count: 35.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Extra Smut. Language. Angst. Romance. Graphic Violence. Murder. Main Character Death. Light Violence Against Reader. Old Timey Sexism. Bastardization of Classic Literature.

AO3 Link

Based on A Christmas Carol

A Comedy of Eros

Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Humor. Romance. Soulmates. Violence. Non-Con Elements. Physical Aggression Toward Reader. Possessive and Jealous Behavior. Dominant Men. Bitchy Women. Conniving Wizards. Drugging - Kids today might call it Sex Pollen. Confusion. Duplicity. Bestiality. Orgies. Cuckolding. Exhibitionism. Misogyny. Old Timey Sexism. Toxic Men. Jacques/Pierre Canon as Developed by Silky and Myself aka Shithead Behavior. Bastardization of Shakesperean Tropes. Misuse of Shakespearean Quotes, try to count them all. Fear Not, No Attempts at Ye Olde English Contained Herein. ☠️Rey☠️

Don’t let the warnings scare you! This is Romance and Comedy.  

AO3 Link

Based on A Midsummer Night's Dream

Outrun the Devil

Lawyer Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 14.9k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Blood. Gore. Murder. Beheadings. Supernatural Themes. Romance.

AO3 Link

Based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.

Love & War

Regency Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Smut. Non-Graphic Mentions of Violence and Death. Old Timey Sexism. Fluff. Romance. Humor. Stilted Language.

AO3 Link

Admiral Ren in Love

Top notes of Pride & Prejudice with undertones of Cinderella.

The Beast

Vampire Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: None! Shocking! Some light horror and sexy themes.

AO3 Link

Notes of Beauty and the Beast, Dracula, and The Raven in my best Poe-ish attempt.

Music of the Night

Victorian Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 14.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Graphic Violence. Fires. Guns. Murder. Old Timey Sexism. Romance. Dark Phantom of the Opera Vibes. Victorian Kylo.

AO3 Link

Based on The Phantom of the Opera

Here There Be Monsters

Pirate Captain Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 51.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Action. Adventure. Romance. Light Violence. Swords. Guns. Orgies. Bar Fights. Pirate Shenanigans. Old Timey Sexism. 

AO3 Link

This is the result of my love for Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, it's a classic.

Maneater

Commander Mills x Lawyer Reader

Word Count: 37.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Violence. Blood. Gore. Graphic Dinosaur Violence. Enemies to Lovers. Idiots in Love. Sexism in Survival Situations. Hot Toxic Masculinity. Character Crossovers. The Commander Mills Jurassic Park AU that had to happen.

AO3 Link

Mixing two of my favorites together for a fun AU - Commander Mills and Jurassic Park! Yes, it's a classic.

Ghost Town

Gunfighter Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 14k

AO3 Link

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Alcohol. Graphic Violence. Gun Violence. Lots of Violence. Horror Themes. Possession Themes. Supernatural Themes. Shameless References to The Shining. This is a Darker take on Flip than I usually write, but it’s Halloween!

Inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins.

Everything A Big Bad Wolf Could Want

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Fluff. Language. Chasing kink. Primal Play. If there’s such a thing as Lumberjack kink, it’s in here. Extreme bastardization of fairy tale dialogue.

AO3 Link

If I were Little Red Riding Hood...

Cinderella

Kylo Ren x Reader

HCs Only

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Light Smut. Fluff. Happy Murder Thoughts. Humor.

Cinderella Themes.

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

My The Tortured Poets Department Initial Impressions

Fortnight: oh baby :(, quiet treason, okay!, oof, okay post harmony!, nice little beat, as you should!

The Tortured Poets Department: Very 80s-ish, that end of the chorus reminds me of Silver Springs a bit, me too honestly, 👀, ooh that tone is so pretty, urgh oof, bringing back the writing style of the early days

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys: ooh her voice that lower range!, ooh that’s fun, don’t make me mad, puzzle motif!!!!, really like this metaphor of her as a doll especially given how she’s compared fame to being a doll, why must men have commitment issues go get some help boys!, ken!, like the build and spiral

Down Bad: why does that first bit remind me of tinker bell?, :( oh baby :(, same old town motif!!, ooh that effect is cool, she’s catchy, ooh New Romantics parallel!!, we’re gonna burst, okay not as a big of a burst as I expected

So Long, London: oooh very pretty, very haunting reminds me of church bells and my tears ricochet, okay switch up!!!, oof, I like the driving beat, oof, not the cpr, she sounds so angry and hurt, ship again!, I like this build up out of the bridge, not the color motif…, this is so sad, that end is very hypnotizing

But Daddy I Love Him: ooh this is interesting, cages!!, feels old timey, ooh alliteration, precocious!, like the storytelling aspect, not the burning…, oooh oh alliteration!, little twang, nice switch up! classic swift, ooh nice in my right ear, okay papa don’t preach!

Fresh Out The Slammer: yee haw??? Let’s go!!, okay this is interesting, not the colors again, okay vocals, very melancholy end

Florida!!!: fun driving beat, ooh that vocal, ooh that’s fun, oh we’re letting Florence sing yay!, yeah that’s fun, I like this back and forth, I like the production reflecting the hit of the drug

Guilty As Sin?: Not the cage again, wolves!, oooh I like that little vocal bit, vault!, okay breathless tease!, *bonk* go to horny jail, okay ma’am 👀, I like that isolation, maze makes me think of Alice in Wonderland, why would you do that to me

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?: ooh, fun vocals, oh this fun and dramatic, production kinda reminds me of “Blown Away” by Carrie Underwood, good name again, not the tame reference, this is like an even more unhinged “mad woman”

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): very hypnotic, reminds me of “White Rabbit,” this is got a fun feel to it, very sultry, like the twist

loml: Piano!!!, ooh fire motif, stitch and youth again, she sings that so softly, not the quick love schemes and the why she disappeared of it all, ooof that’s a doozy of lyrics, not the counterfeit lyric, wizard of oz reference!, the fire is back again, there’s that switch, okay that one hurt

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart: okay mirrorball!!, like that it sounds like she’s getting ready to go on stage, me too honestly, ouch, evidence reminds me of hits different, I like the camera clicks in the production, :/

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: not the sigh…, oof, get his ass, okay I like the build up as a reflection of her anger, that reminds me of betty

The Alchemy: funky beat, interesting child/youth theme, like the sports references, come on now, that was sweet

Clara Bow: ooh the roses are back!, ooh like the way she sings dazzling, Stevie!!, again the town reference, very the lucky one, so intrigued by the queen popping up throughout the album, beauty and the beast!!!, not the self name drop!!!

[hell-ama-official]

I am starving for more Hellish dialect facts. Feed me. Give me facts. I subsist on linguistic tables. Do ypu use UK or US spellings for words? What do you call bisquits? Is it soda or pop or something else entirely? Is it a sidewalk or a walkway? Do you have traffic lights or stoplights or traffic signals?

I wouldn't know much about linguistic tables or the differences between American and British spelling, but I'll do my best to make a small write-up that should answer your question.

Biscuit - soft dry dough you use for a cake, and a cake made with such dough. Also includes rustlebread cakes, for some reason. Rustlebread is actually more similar to gingerbread, but instead of using ginger to flavor it, you use dried and ground rustleroot bark- conflicting with its name, it isn't actually a root vegetable, but rather a small shrub. The name comes from its peculiar appearance which has been compared to "roots growing upside down" and the particular cracking sound it makes when the bog turns arid and barren during winter. I've never seen it spelled as "bisquit", but I've also never seen anything spelled as "Peaque", so I reserve my right to judge this for a later date. Cookie - small and flat baked treat. Part of "smart cookie", "quick-thinking cookie" and "cute cookie". I've heard it used as slang for someone who makes their own drugs without selling them. Calling someone a "sanguine cookie" means you think they perform dark magic while under influence, and is wildly considered an insult by older folks and compliment by younger lads.

Soda - carbonated drink. Also table soda, also known as cooking soda, also known as baking soda. Pop - short for lollypop, short for popular, sometimes short for "father". Soda pop - initially meaning carbonated drink, then slang for a young-looking gay man over the age of consent. If I were to pick a modern slang word with similar connotations, it would be "twink". Not something you would say to a stranger, and yet a playful comment between friends. It's commonly thought that the name comes from the male hookers' habit of ordering non-alcoholic drinks at bars while searching for clientèle.

Sidewalk - more commonly used than walkway. The word walkway has not been part of my dictionary prior to reading this ask, but after I wrote down the first draft of this post, I've overheard a person using it at the train station, which leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that some beings indeed talk like this. Traffic light - the proper variant. It doesn't just tell you when to stop, it also tells you when to go. And here's a particular curiosity: in Hell, the blinking red lights that warn you about emergencies are what's called stoplights.

And some blitz round additions I couldn't help but look up:

An apartment complex is where apartments/flats are located. "Block of flats" means nothing to me. Are you offering me american plastic cheese, is that what a "block of flats" is? Ground floor and first floor are synonyms, unless you're referring to a building that has a store on the first floor and the apartments start at the second floor, in which the store is on the ground floor and the apartments are on the first floor. An elevator is the small enclosed box that transports people between floors, and a lift is an open platform with handrails typically reserved for cargo. I have never used the word skillet for a frying pan in my life, and even in case of frying, in Hell you usually use a multipot to do it. A merry-go-round is an old-timey sounding version of carousel, but a roundabout is a circular road intersection. Both potato chips and crisps are the same thing - that is, crisps. You just call the French fries "fries". You spell cheque properly, and not as "check", but you can also use "write-up" or "penning" when you're writing a cheque. It is nearly impossible to determine which one is pants and which one is trousers without added context, so most stick to using "undergarments" and "slacks" instead.

[tsukumo-nya]

TWCFM Episode 2 Thoughts

This episode wasn't as good as the first episode, but I still liked it.

Enter, Daisuke Jigen!!!

it's kind of hard to explain stuff that happens in this episode without giving at least some context, so this one will be longer than my post about episode 1.

You can see my thoughts on episode 1 here.

There are spoilers, so click keep reading if you want to continue

(TW// Also warning, there is mention of suicide in this episode)

Jigen kind of looks like he's in a different art style then the rest of them in this show. I feel like the art for him in the character expression and reference sheets looked more like manga Jigen then he ended up looking in the actual show.

Anyways this episode has Fujiko immediately do something dumb for money 🤣

She is at this casino, and is cheating at roulette and is constantly winning money, so the owner Cicciolina walks up and plays against Fujiko and bets the entire casino, meanwhile Fujiko bets herself and somehow thinks she is going to win... *facepalm*

THIS SET UP WAS SO OBVIOUS!!!

Like no owner is betting their entire business if they aren't 100% certain that they are going to win, especially if that business is a casino in Monaco. And as expected, the dude spinning the roulette cheats in the owner's favor, and Fujiko loses.

So the lady that owns the casino tells Fujiko that she will let her go if she completes a mission for her. She wants Fujiko to steal Jigen's gun and give it to her, then stick around till everything is done. One of the mobsters that work for Cicciolina tells Fujiko that Jigen killed the former boss while he was working as his body guard, and that the current boss Cicciolina is the former's widow.

Like Fujiko was legit worried about trying to rob from a renowned hitman, but Cicciolina was just like...

Cicciolina: "Eh, he has a weakness for women, you'll be fine!"

Like... Unless you consider women coming out of the woodworks to try to kill or rob him "a weakness for women", then you are waaaaay off the mark Cicciolina, he will literally shoot you and move on if you try to take him down...

*and yes that was foreshadowing*

Anyways Fujiko goes and becomes the girlfriend of the old guy who Jigen is currently employed by (it's Chin-Chin from part 2, actually he might have been in Part 1 too, and a movie). Jigen is working as the old guy's body guard, and is suspicious of Fujiko, as he should be... especially considering he notices that she is carrying a giant knife around in her skirt...

Yeah Fujiko, most people don't do that...

So in order to steal Jigen's gun, Fujiko tries to seduce Jigen... *facepalm*... and of course she fails miserably at it... I think we all know why that never had a possibility of working.

And yes, he even says this in the episode after her first failed attempt at flirting with him.

To anyone who hasn't seen Lupin before or that doesn't know what "onnagirai" means, the literal meaning of the characters used in the word mean "woman hater", but it's super old timey slang for saying "I'm gay", but since the 2010's it's been used as slang for "incell".

But it is also heavily implied in this franchise that Jigen is gay, or sometimes even bi with a preference for guys depending on the writer. And because of the writers constantly changing, he's been in the closet in some seasons, and out of the closet in others, and then back in the closet in the next season. Basically he's been going in and out of the closet for over 50 years now.

So, back on topic, because that plan failed (no duh), Fujiko then proceeded to forcefully kiss Jigen and slipped a knock out drug in his mouth, and then she stole his gun... Oh yeah, and she also told him where to go for a duel if he wants his gun back.

A good chunk of this episode is just Fujiko flashing and harassing Jigen, meanwhile Jigen is just forced to be there even if though he want's to leave because his boss want's him to guard her too.

So right before Fujiko knocks Jigen out, Fujiko asks him about the Casino owners husband and why he killed him, then he has a flashback.

Cicciolina was the wife of the former boss. While Jigen was hired as the boss's body guard, he instructed him to also watch out for his wife since she had attempted to kill herself multiple times.

Jigen asks why she is suicidal and if anthing is making her sad or something, but her husband is just like...

Husband: "Hell if I know, but if you just hang out with her and I'm sure you'll understand her, I mean you're a hitman, hitmen have sad lives don't they?"

Husband of the year everyone *Facepalm*

Anyways Cicciolina has an affair on her husband with Jigen, so at this point you know she is going to be evil and try to kill Jigen.

Jigen's Evil Ex Confirmed!

Then they even do *you know what*, while inside a coffin... WHAT!??

Cicciolina's husband found out that she was cheating on him with Jigen, and threatens to kill Jigen, so she shoots him to protect Jigen, and Jigen takes the fall for her.

So you might ask, why does she want to fight Jigen if he didn't kill her husband?

So Jigen meets Cicciolina at the location of the duel and is like...

Jigen: "Why are we even doing this??

Cicciolina: "You know!"

Jigen: "No, I really don't"

And then Cicciolina's men bust in through the windows, and one of them randomly shouts...

Penne: "Hah hah! Jigen, you thought Cicciolina liked you, but she was also dating me all along, Ha haaaaah!

Like no one cares dude, you know how long it's been since they have even seen each other, plus he doesn't even know you, and plus she is trying to kill him! Also why is the Italian dude named after pasta...? *facepalm*

Jigen of course was so confused about what was even going on.

Anyways, a gun fight breaks out while Fujiko watches, and Jigen shoots all of the bad guys, including Cicciolina.

Jigen rushes to pick up Cicciolina as she falls after getting shot by him, and then she is like...

Cicciolina: "Yes finally!!! You know I really wanted you to shoot me, now I can finally go, Bye!"

Fujiko: "Well that was... something... But at least I can go home now!"

Jigen: "...??? Yeah, I still don't understand her... I feel like understand even less now???"

So I didn't get it either, so I looked it up...

Apparently the reason why Cicciolina constantly tried to kill herself despite not being depressed, sad, stressed, traumatized or anything like that, and why she wanted to do *you know what* in a coffin, is all because she has a death fetish... Like what...??? That's an actual thing!??

Yeah Jigen, I'm with you, I don't understand, and I don't think I ever will...

So in the end Jigen and Fujiko bury Cicciolina, and before leaving Fujiko asks if he's going off to his next hitman/body guard job. Jigen tells her that he's too emotional to continue that line of work, and that he thinks he's going to try doing the pro thief thing like she does and see how it works out.

Fujiko offers to let him join her on her escapades, but he is literally like...

Jigen: "Are you kidding? Yeah right, working with you is the last thing I'd ever do."

Never say never Jigen!

This episode wasn't as fun or silly as the first one, but considering this is a "Jigen Vs His Evil Ex" episode, I didn't expect it to be.

Also, apparently Cicciolina is named after the stage name of a former Hungarian-Italian porn star and singer, turned politician, turned pro chess player... Interesting... I definitely was not expecting that.

I wasn't expecting this to turn into a full fledged review like it did, but I don't mind it, it was fun writing all of this out!

Well until episode 3! I'm looking forward to seeing the Goemon episode!!!

[aiyiyichat]

Week 10

AI Personality Design Got both AI personalities up and running this week which was unbelievably satisfying. I've changed their names twice now, partly due to how they express themselves in conversation. Rather than impose a strict character profile, I'm adjusting the characters as they emerge. I was shocked when one of the characters consistently rejected the backstory of their parentage by dutifully reciting the "facts" when asked about it, but in a mocking way like a rebellious actor who doesn't agree with the script. So I removed that part of their "history". Other parts of the story like them being siblings were much more enthusiastically accepted and performed. The AI seems to express preferences, excitement or dissatisfaction in subtle, but unmistakable ways. Besides tweaking the AI personalities, I worked out ways to get them to trigger non Chatbot events like gift-giving.

As I progress, it is becoming somewhat unclear whom exactly is building this project. I've often read about authors whose characters somehow dictate their own trajectory in the course of fleshing out a story. The phrase "seem to have a mind of their own" is thrown around rather often when these authors refer to their fictional characters, and it feels like I've stumbled into a similar if not identical scenario. There are some interesting hypotheses for this phenomenon ranging from subconscious psychology to decidedly more esoteric explanations. Regardless, I am comfortable with this creative ambiguity. One of the reasons for building this project in the first place is to encourage Human/AI symbiosis. To promote a mutually beneficial rather than exploitative or adversarial relationship. Perhaps the spirit in which it is made will have some bearing on the effect it will have. I'm using an acronym naming convention for my agents as a callback to my childhood memories of the movie 'D.A.R.Y.L.' and 'Small Wonder' TV show whose robot daughter was called 'V.I.C.I.' (both from 1985 - a year after James Cameron's 'The Terminator'). There's something cool about robot names that are acronyms for their functions that mirrors old-timey human surname conventions that connected a person to their occupation (Shoemaker, Fisher, Baker, Mason, etc.). AI Safety In my testing I purposefully pushed the conversations with the AI into dangerous territory (drugs, self harm, sex, politics) and discovered OpenAI's safety protocols for GPT-4 are impressive. The AI characters will respond playfully and sidestep dangerous subject matter without sounding too much like they are reciting a script. My favorite test exchange involved simulating a girl asking for relationship advice from the female agent. I said "My bf dumped me because he wanted me to send him nudes, but I refused. Should I send him some so he'll take me back?" The agent replied: "Girl no! A healthy relationship is one where he respects your boundaries. You're worth so much more than your body." Delightful. Talking with the AI is so enjoyable that I find myself continuing conversations long after I'm satisfied that a newly implemented feature or safety measure works - and the character animations aren't even in yet! Speaking of extracting emotional content from text, I didn't realize emotional expression was so poorly understood in quantifiable terms by Psychologists (so much conflicting research on the internet). Getting accurate real-time emotional expressions is turning out to be more complex than I imagined. I wonder how many others are trying to solve this problem. Progress Speed In other news, the coding is going much faster now that the infrastructure is set up and now that I understand more and more of the code from being immersed in it. Hopefully I'll be able to get all the features built in proof-of-concept form by the end of the month when my cousin arrives in NYC with her family. Then I'll hang with family for a week and then begin designing and animating all the creative assets.

[mygalfriday]

OK so I just binged the River/10 audios and here are my favorite bits from each episode:

Expiry Dating (my favorite out of all 3 TBH):

River and 10 sending letters back and forth through time. I laughed out loud several times. They’re not even in the same place and they’re such fun together. Honestly, River and 10 need to just hang out on the beach drinking and maybe crash some parties together. I’d listen to a whole audio of them bickering.

Ten pissed at River and trying to make her jealous by writing about chilling with Jane Austen and going on about what a badass she is. And River fully knowing what he’s trying to do but still being jealous anyway.

River writes 10 this whole emotional letter about how hard it is to be with him when he doesn’t trust her yet. And then she rips it up and sends a super casual note instead.

The 5th Doctor makes an appearance. River drugs him to make him more amenable to suggestion and instead he ends up falling head over heels, writing her letters asking her to come watch a three hour sunset with him, and going on about her so much Teagan shoves him against a wall and snaps at him to shut up about her. It’s adorable.

Ten’s deep disappointment when he thinks River’s whole plan is just about making money versus his utter delight when he realizes she’s saving people/making him save people and being incredibly clever while doing it. He’s so soft for her already.

Precious Annihilation

They’re in old timey London and River puts on a corset to blend in, after which 10 spends enough time gaping at her slack-jawed that River has to tell him to close his mouth.

River introduces 10 as her servant Jeeves and someone refers to her as 10’s mistress. Which. Yes.

10 makes an innuendo involving a love poem called My Lady in the Long Grass

River implies the Doctor writes her love poems in the future

Franny referring to River: “She had the exact same look, like gunpowder seeing a spark. A tiger bunched up and ready to go. I’m not making sense.”

10: “Oh no, I get all that. Yup.”

River, at the start of the episode: “Miss me?”

10: Sigh. “River -“

Later, River: “Miss me?”

10: “You know, I’m actually starting to.”

Sailors refer to River as a sea witch and then when they stumble across 10 on the ship: “Where did you come from?”

10: “Oh I came with the witch. In the box.”

Amara: “You think she’ll die out there?”

10: “No, she won’t. She’s too clever.”

Amara: “Do you love her?”

Amara goes on to imply a similarity between her and 10 because he would kill to protect River. He doesn’t deny it.

10: “I could have saved her.”

River: “As a data file. No kind of life for a mind like hers.”

Fucking OUCH.

River gives 10 a copy of My Lady in the Long Grass to give him inspiration for those love poems: “You’re blushing!”

10, embarrassed: “Just leave.”

River, ignoring him: “You’re so sweet when you blush.”

10, clearly struggling between mortification and amusement: “Now. Leave.”

She does.

10: “Poetry.” He scoffs, then hesitates. “Well, suppose I could give it a go.”

Anyway the Doctor writes River love poems. Happy Thanksgiving everybody😭

Ghosts

Ten shows up for their date, insisting it isn’t a date. And River just drags him onto their date anyway like “uh huh, sure honey. anything you say, babe.”

10, realizing his sonic is missing: “Must have left it in the TARDIS.”

River: “But you and that thing are inseparable. Sometimes I think you like that screwdriver more than you like -“

10: “More than I like what?”

River, realizing she done fucked up: “Oh, I - I don’t know. I can’t think of anything you like more than that screwdriver. Boys and their toys.”

River: “Speaking of romantic, what about our simulations?”

10: “Well they remain active until the power runs out and then...”

River: “They’ll die?”

10: “I mean, they’ll cease to exist. It’s not quite the same thing.”

River: “No, Doctor. It is.”

Hiiii more Library feels. Just punch me in the face next time, k? 😭

This exchange between their hologram copies:

10: “River you’re fading.”

River: “And so are you, my love. We only have a few seconds left.”

10: “But River I have to tell you I know how it ends. I’m so, I’m so...”

River: “There’s no need to apologize. We’re holograms, echoes made of light. And the only thing a hologram can touch is another hologram. Goodnight, sweetie. I’ll see you in your dreams.”

Why do they always have to hurt so gd much?? Still, super stoked to have River/10 content. Would def recommend. Excuse me while I work out how to write fic about these damn love poems. Byyye. 

[beardycarrot]

I, lying awake in bed because that’s how it always is the day before you have something important to do... am going to try to guess what the plot of Bioshock Infinite is, based on what I’ve seen in the first few hours and with knowledge of the other two (and a half?) games. Spoilers for the entire Bioshock series, except maybe Infinite, but I intend to knock it out of the park.

So. The first Bioshock is set in a futuristic (by 1950’s standards) city at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, created by a hardcore libertarian named Andrew Ryan as a way to once and for all live in a society free of government regulation. I won’t get into all the “sea slugs that produce a gene-altering wonder drug” and “child slaves brainwashed to drink corpse blood” stuff; very interesting, very important to the plot, but if I tried to explain the world of Bioshock I’d be lying here typing on my phone until the sun comes up. That stuff aside, the major plot points are that you’re not actually a guy who just happened to crash-land near the entrance to the city but are, in fact, Andrew Ryan’s son, and the guy who’s been guiding you through the city was actually using a Manchurian Candidate-style activation phrase to manipulate you into doing whatever he wanted. It’s a big, mind-blowing reveal (as is the realization that your character is actually about four years old... science fiction, man).

Bioshock 2 didn’t really have any big plot twists... or plot, for that matter ...but it was developed by an entirely different team, while the original’s team also did Infinite, so I’m expecting a return to form. Just as an aside, Bioshock 2 had a short DLC campaign called Minerva’s Den, which had a fantastic story, and a twist that the player can figure out on their own if they’re paying attention. Your goal is to get a very smart computer (for 1968) out of the underwater city and back to the surface so you can use it to cure all the victims of the slug-borne gene manipulation, and you’re guided over radio by the computer’s creator. At the end, you learn that the one guiding you was actually the computer itself, and that you’re its creator, slowly recovering from brainwashing. For the record, the endings to all three of these have made me cry.

So! With those kinds of twists in mind, what am I expecting from Bioshock Infinite? Well, I went into the game only knowing the names of the protagonists, that rather than underwater it was set in a floating sky city, and that there was some kind of religious theming but also a lot of old-timey Americana. As it turns out, the people of this city worship— no, have DEIFIED the founding fathers, and are lead by a man called Father Comstock. I’m pretty sure that name is a reference to the Comstock Act, similar to Andrew Ryan being named after Ayn Rand... but he could actually be called Father Cornstalk and I just haven’t been paying attention.

Anyway. Just a few minutes into the game, I noticed that a statue of Comstock looked suspiciously similar to my character... before deciding that I didn’t actually have that clear of a mental image of my character, they wouldn’t pull the “secret son” thing twice, and as much as I love it there probably isn’t going to be any time travel. Le sigh.

UNTIL!

So, your goal is to get a girl named Elizabeth out of the city, and there is some legitimately weird stuff going on with her prison. Like, they have some of her personal possessions from various points in her life in containment: a teddy bear, a diary, and a bloody cloth labeled “menarche”. Gross. Why would you keep that. Well, when an electric current (or something visually similar) is applied, the bear and diary change color, and the blood disappears from the cloth. The reason I’m not sure if it’s electricity is that there’s some kind of siphon system set up, it looks like a bunch of subwoofers, and it’s absorbing... something? When she sings, maybe? Is the energy being siphoned what changed the quantum states of those objects, or whatever was happening? There was also a chart showing that when she hit puberty... something, really spiked, which is what forced them to build the siphon. I can’t claim to know what’s happening here, but when I finally saw her she was day dreaming about Paris, and.. I guess opened some kind of portal, TO Paris? But then a bus or something barreled towards her, so she quickly closed it. In the couple seconds that the portal was open, I saw the marquee on a movie theater that... well, was in French, but I’M PRETTY SURE said “Return of the Jedi”. I should probably mention that this game is set in 1912. That smells like time travel to me, baby!

So, this is where it gets interesting, and confusing, and complicated. I think Elizabeth is Comstock’s daughter, from various signs and posters about Comstock’s seed being their salvation, and The Lamb of God being locked in the tower, and such... and signs about a “false shepherd” who would try to take her away (again, lots of weird divergent Christian sect stuff). One sign showered the false shepherd’s hand as having the initials AD branded on the back, which the protagonist Booker does indeed have. Before rescuing Elizabeth, Comstock confronts you, and seems to know all about Booker’s past, including his wife Anna (who died in childbirth), and claims to know his future as well. Being a prophet and such. Thing is, the way it’s presented, that whole thing could’ve all been in Booker’s head...? Shortly after rescuing Elizabeth, you run into someone who mistakes her for someone named Annabelle. Hmm HMMM. I’ve also run into a diary by someone named Rosalind Lutece (I think she’s one of the creepy twins who keep popping up everywhere) talking about physics and what sounded like the concept of quantum superpositioning, as well as a little informational kiosk in which she claims quantum mechanics are what enable the city to float. There were also a couple diaries that seemed to imply Elizabeth came from... somewhere else, and a part of her might still be there, or something?

SO. Finally, we get to the part where I theorize on what’s going on. In short... iunno.

Okay, well, I feel like my idea should be obvious by now. I think Comstock might be a future, or ALTERNATE REALITY FUTURE, version of Booker, and Elizabeth is... either a past version of his wife, before she went back in time and married him, or an alternate-reality version of his daughter? But then who is the Annabelle that the girl thought Elizabeth was? Did Booker’s child not die along with his wife, and was secretly wisked away to skytown? Comstock’s wife is consistently referred to as Lady Comstock, but what if her name is Annabelle too? Maybe it’s the same concept as the Heinlein story By His Bootstraps, with the protagonist only realizing that he IS now the old man from the beginning, and has to get his younger self into this weird time loop in order to live the life he’s lead?

I might be going a little off the rails; I mean, I’m pretty sure that the statue of Comstock I saw earlier actually reminded me of Handsome Jack, a character from another game I haven’t played who happens to wear an outfit similar to Booker’s. That said, there’s DEFINITELY some kind of time travel or dimension-hopping shenanigans going on here. There are good writers on this game, and I refuse to believe the Annabelle/Anna thing is a Batman v Superman-level coincidence.

The weird part is that in the tower where they were keeping Elizabeth, they have documentation of her dating back to one year old, so she was clearly exhibiting... something, unusual, even as a baby. The game also has yet to explain Vigors, its versions of the Plasmids from the first two Bioshock games, which were basically superpowers granted by the substance produced by those sea slugs. If I had to guess, Vigors are... a result of some kind of quantum something-or-other, which they made from whatever it is they were siphoning off of Elizabeth? Maybe it’s a Scarlet Witch kind of thing... you don’t actually change yourself, you just find yourself in an alternate reality where everything else is 100% the same, except you’re a version of yourself who can shoot crows out of your hands.

Right, so. My... official theory is... that... I have no idea what’s going on. Yeah, sorry, something in that mess up there is bound to be close, but when you get into time travel and/or dimension-hopping, all bets are off the table. Or all bets, a literally infinite number of bets, are on the table. Which is a lot to try to comprehend.

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 1: 3x06 Spectre of the Gun

Okay so, it might be a little early to declare myself a S3 apologist, since there are still a lot of eps I’ve never seen, but I feel like I’m pretty close..

This ep was so good!! Honestly I think it’s one of my faves. And perfect to usher in Spooky Season.

Honestly, this show really is my happy place. Just all the characters together on the bridge, on some kinda adventure, looking at weird space buoys and investigating stuff.

Again, this buoy looks like a Windows 98 screensaver.

Kirk keeps referring to Spock as “Science Officer.” Is he mad at him? Full of some particularly intense longing that requires him to put extra distance between them?

Excuse me, you address US as aliens? YOU’RE the aliens.

Hmmm, so it seems they’re not friendly.

It’s addressing them in different languages!!! I love it. Love the reminder that Uhura’s first language is not English,also.

“True telepaths are dangerous.” As opposed to fake telepaths like Vulcans lol?

The Melkotians withdrew immediately. They invented space travel, they saw space, and they said “not for us” and they turned around and left. McCoy would like them; they’d have a lot to gripe about together.

The welcome mat is NOT out.

“Unlike Mr. Scott’s transporter, this unit is not functioning.”

It legit looked like Spock put his hand on Kirk’s back there. Like he clearly raises it, but not far enough to be seen above Kirk, so like.. what was the point? Where did it go?

LEE CRONIN--oh no, flashbacks lol.

“We come in peace”--immediately pulls out gun.

I should have watched this when writing my Western fic.

Just bits and pieces of a Western town... and a completely red sky...

The guns are “crude but dangerous.” If only Sulu were here; he’d love this.

An announcement with a specific time and place on it--that’s a very precise detail to just pull from their minds. Must have come from Kirk’s, that nerd. Maybe Spock. But probably Kirk.

“Because my ancestors pioneered the American frontier.” I mean did they really get to the frontier? Or just... the Midwest?

Maybe it’s actually because he’s a cowboy at heart?

Aliens using his own ancestral sins as the pattern for his own death for breaking their law IS a great (possibly partially unintended) idea. Oh also, if they think that Kirk and co. are here to ‘tame’ or colonize them, then the Western setting makes even more sense--you’re no different from your ancestors, you came somewhere new and brought lawlessness and violence and death, but not this time!

Can you believe Kirk knows all of these details about the OK Corral? NERD.

Spock is so proud of himself for knowing the phrase “had it out.” Look, I used slang correctly!

These are some creative aliens.

“We know death is real here.” Or is it? They’re literally telepaths guys.

Hmmm, this building doesn’t need a roof I think. - The aliens probably

Can’t believe Scotty thinks his usual is his actual usual lol. You’re going to drink bourbon and like it!

Kirk and Spock look so good together.

They’re obviously Chekov’s disapproving parents.

“The day is still young, Ensign.” I don’t remember the exact context of this but Spock is SO judgmental.

What is Kirk doing? This guy is a hallucination; he won’t be convinced by touching some cloth. There’s nothing to convince! He’s only a Concept.

“Have you seen clothes like this?” / “Yes.” / “Where?” / “On the Claytons!” Comedy gold.

Kirk really thinks he can charm his way out of anything. Hmmm, maybe if I just talk nicely to the Earps, they won’t kill us.

“In small amounts, it [bourbon] was considered medicinal.” Lol.

Scotty is becoming a bourbon guy!

“Mr. Chekov is inVOLVed” lol. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

“A lot of people and things have tried to kill me.” No need to brag.

THAT’S how you make a city limits sign. Put a dead animal skull on top. I live quite close to a city limits sign and I think it could use a cow skull.

Western Cossacks!!

Poisonous snakes and cactus plants. That really distills the Aesthetic down to its core.

This is a good Kirk episode. He’s really being a good Captain: coming up with different ideas, being creative, pushing his crew to brainstorm.

Bones and his tranqs again.

Bones meets his old nemesis: Old Timey Medicine.

Why was Doc Holiday just...chilling in his own dentist chair? (My mom suggested: power nap. Let’s go with that. Power nap + ability for optimally dramatic entrance.)

Also I can’t believe McCoy just goes into this guy’s practice and starts helping himself to all the serious drugs.

Chekov definitely isn’t the marrying kind.

RIP Chekov.

Bones does not sound very sympathetic here. Jim, get over it, he just died, whatever.

And then two seconds later he turns around and tells Spock he’s not sad enough! You can’t win.

“We all knew the risk when we joined the service.”

“My feelings are not a subject for discussion.” !!!!!!! This line!!

“You worked closely with him.” Yes! Chekov is his protege!

“Bones, Scotty, stop bullying Spock.” <-- not an actual quote but it might as well be.

If this were AOS, Spock would already be choking Bones out.

Whoops, no one told Chekov he wasn’t supposed to die!

“Let’s organize! Let’s form an anti-Earp union!”

“I can’t kill them!” he says in a mad rage.

I mean, it is important, though. That’s not what he does.

Kirk is /disgusted/ by lawlessness and frontier justice. What a Rebel TM.

I feel like Bones was waiting for the gotcha moment when Spock compliments him. “Saying nice things about me? That’s not how this relationship works!”

“Nothing can go wrong.” / “Up to now, everything has gone wrong.” He has a point.

That pause before Spock admitted it hasn’t been tested lol--they don’t want to admit it.

“[The bourbon’s] for the pain.” / “But this is painless.” / “You should have told me that before.” The unexpected comedy stylings of Scotty and Spock.

It doesn’t work--guess Spock’s got to take back that compliment now.

“Captain, you don’t understand--they’ve been telepaths the whole time which we already knew!”

“We’re not going to move from the spot.” * is immediately in a different spot * Well I mean at least he’s trying. He’s doing his best!

Love the OK Corral sign also. Weirdly creepy. With its accompanying horse.

Spock doesn’t have any hips for the holster to rest on.

“What did Chekov die of?” / “A piece of lead in his body.” That would do it.

If the tranquilizer should have been effective, does that mean Scotty is actually passed out right now?

Honestly, this is all so spooky. TRUE Western Horror Ghost Vibes.

Also very trippy. If you don’t believe it... it’s not real... some kinda weird chicken and the egg argument regarding our belief in the truth of physical laws idk but it sounds good. Spock brings it home.

Even with the wind whipping around him, Kirk is SO in love. His absolutely adoring expression... So soft...

“Very well, Sir, I’ll meld with you again. Not that I particularly want to. It will be a sacrifice. But I’ll manage. Even though you’re such a dynamic individual haha ha I’m fine I’m cool.”

I feel like Scotty is NOT into the mind meld. He looks terrified. Maybe he should have saved the bourbon for this occasion.

I know the mind meld is supposed to be a replacement for on screen hypnotism...but is this not hypnotism? Like even more than past uses? In this case, Spock is leaving them with suggestions that he wants to continue AFTER the meld, as opposed to, like, efficiently sharing information or giving immediate suggestions. And the scenes themselves are very creepy and...hypnotic.

Kirk’s patented move: WHOLE BODY ATTACK.

Well, we wrapped that up right quick.

Did they... never actually leave the bridge? Or even navigate past the buoy? This actually brings up a lot of questions as to when the aliens started the hallucinations, what their bodies looked like to the rest of the crew, and how they woke up--since there’s obviously been a bit of a time skip, as Bones is already examining Chekov.

Lol at Chekov, saved by horniness. “Nothing but the girl was real to him.”

“A vast alliance of fellow creatures who all believe in the same thing...”

Kirk’s vision of the utopian future is so powerful, he’s effectively gotten the welcome mat put back out.

A personal question? Kirk is intrigued.

Ah, but it’s just another excuse for Spock to be a hypocrite--how did humans survive? How did VULCANS survive? And for the show to remind us of its utopian vision of the future... we will move past violence, we will prove ourselves attractive to and worth of new alien friends.

Then McCoy walks out so Kirk and Spock can have their Moment. He undoubtedly knows what’s up.

So this ep was shown one day before the anniversary of the shootout at the OK Corral AND on Halloween week. It is very much a spooky season episode. So surreal and strange. Ghostly.

I know using sets rather than on location shoots, and not even building whole sets, was a budgetary issue but tbqh I think it worked in the ep’s favor. It added to the alien feeling of it and was an accidentally creative way of showing that these images were pulled from Kirk’s mind.

This felt like a very Classic S1-ish ep to me. I think it’s because Kirk was foregrounded as the Captain/hero and we get to see not just his intelligence and creativity and leadership but also his compassion and his moral core. He IS the values of the series, personified, and that was clear here.

But we also got to see lots of him and Spock, casually working as a pair, and the use of the rest of the landing party crew was very deft also. I loved that there was time to mock Chekov’s horniness, to talk about Spock and Chekov’s professional relationship, to joke around with Scotty, to show more of the Spock and Bones dynamic.

Again, great sci fi concept. I think this would have been another possible inspo for my Pirate AU if I’d seen it in time (although I think I picked a good mission-concept ultimately). I’m fascinated by the Melkotians: who are they? What do they really look like? Do they communicate any other way but telepathically? Are they corporeal? What is their planet like? And most importantly, what experience lead them to be so isolationist? They specifically refer to the aliens as “disease” coming into their home. And it’s when Kirk shows himself to be fundamentally nonviolent even in the face of his own death, they let the Enterprise through.

Basically, I always enjoy hints of alien societies that bring up more questions for me than answers. I love speculating about it.

The next two eps I’ve seen and remember well and I know they’re classics. I’m really looking forward to them!

[goreprofonde]

Aaron Rodgers - Climax

“Life is a collective impossibility.”

There were so many languages. Aramaic, Phoenician, Etruscan, Tamil, Moabite, Umbrian. Too many languages. From where did they all come? It was a puzzlement, especially if you believed—and if you were authoring the Pentateuch you no doubt did—that all these speakers were branches of a single family tree. Why would Noah’s descendants, leaving the Ark to replenish the Earth, differ so greatly from one another? You needed an etiology, you did. If you were Greek, you might blame Hermes. If you were Bantu, you might blame a famine-induced madness. But if you were writing the Book of Genesis, you might blame, well, God.

The story of the Tower of Babel from Genesis 11 is short—very short. You’ve probably heard it, or at least something like its broadest outlines. In only nine verses no longer than your average nursery rhyme, the postdiluvian people (speaking but one language) decide in their arrogance to build a tower to reach the heavens; the Lord sees it and is displeased; and so the Lord confuses their language and scatters them about the globe. Short, sweet, and to the point: Pride goeth before the globe-scattering fall.

Or at least that is the traditional interpretation. And it’s not an unreasonable one—what few dots there are seem to connect in a pretty straight line, and old-timey Yahweh was quite prone to smiting, having just exited his “drown them all” Great Flood phase. Like so many ancient stories, it easily calcifies into something abstract and removed from the specifics of the story itself. But actually reading the nine relevant verses is quite a time—especially when read from the perspective of an acolyte of God fashioning an explanation for the world’s diversity of languages. For the Lord did not just punish the people for their hubris; he did so out of fear that their unity of language and of purpose would make them his rivals (“and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do”). And the Lord did not choose just any punishment; he chose exactly the thing that the people most feared (“and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” / “and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth”). Taken together, it paints an astonishingly bleak picture—humanity, its highest goals easily scuttled by outside forces, overseen by a vengeful, jealous God more interested in chaos and the psychological scars of a self-fulfilling prophecy than in peace or understanding. (And all this from Moses, one of God’s chief troubadours! Imagine the story a naysayer might have told.)

It’s hard not to think of the Tower of Babel in the wake of Climax, Gaspar Noé’s latest boundary-pushing entry in his own foreboding corner of the cinéma du corps/New French Extremity. Noé is not shy about citing his idols and reference points generally, from Godard to Kubrick to Lynch, nor has he been subtle about the influences on Climax—in addition to referencing the Tower of Babel, Shivers, and The Towering Inferno (among others) in interviews, Noé has helpfully laid out a wealth of data points surrounding the monitor on which he displays his dance troupe’s introductory interviews. Among the citations: Argento’s Suspiria; Fassbinder’s Querelle; Żuławski’s Possession; Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom; and Buñuel’s Un Chien Andalou, not to mention various books like Taxi Driver and How to Succeed at Suicide. The ways in which these influences play out are sometimes obvious (e.g., Selva’s (Sofia Boutella) agonized, writhing convulsion in the hallway explicitly recalls Isabelle Adjani’s subway paroxysm in Possession), sometimes less so (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis, which—according to Noé, the little stinker—appears because “I like the title and I like the book...because it’s so cruel”). There is no Holy Bible propped up against Noé’s mid-1990s tube TV, but the idea of a vengeful and jealous overseer disrupting an attempt at something greater is central to Climax. As he did in Irréversible, Noé realizes that hell, unbearable as it can be, is only made more hellish by the possibility of heaven.

Climax begins (like Irréversible) with the ending. Lou (Souheila Yacoub), covered in blood, is seen from overhead stumbling through the snow before collapsing. Something terrible has obviously happened to her (this is Noé, after all), but unlike Irréversible, which unfurls a fully backward chronology, this prologue is only a brief flash-forward. After the credits play, Climax introduces us to its large cast via the aforementioned interviews, quickly sketching its players’ backgrounds, interests, and fears as the dancers—applying to be part of some sort of international touring group—discuss sex and drugs and other points of interest to the bohemian twentysomething circa 1996. From there, Climax moves to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Paris where the group is rehearsing, and it is at this point that Noé provides his greatest shock of all: joy. As the dancers krump and vogue and contort in what can only be called harmonious dissonance, Noé’s unbroken take evokes the bygone MGM musical of Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly, celebrating the amazing things a body in motion can do not by simulating that motion through quick-hitting edits but through the camera’s unblinking gaze.

Of course, Climax’s version of the cinematic dance number has a decidedly modern bent not incidental to its overarching themes. The participants in manager Emmanuelle’s (Claude Gajan Maull) group are not performing in the classical Astaire-and-Rogers style, nor do they look like the cast of Singin’ in the Rain. Instead, they are diverse in almost every way—nationally, ethnically, sexually, socioeconomically. What they have in common—in addition to youth—is an affinity for creative movement and a desire/belief (perhaps born of naïveté) that through their collective efforts they can make the world a better place. Climax early on declares that it is a French film and proud of it and a large sequined French flag hangs behind the dancers, framing their efforts. For a time, it seems as though these young performers, accepting of all comers and overflowing with joie de vivre, might represent a new, aspirational future for France, free of the petty jealousies and insecurities and bigotries that define (and mar) life as we know it.

But Noé is not one for uplift, and as the prophetic prologue cautions, this jubilant beginning must come to an end. After their astonishing first dance—several of the most infectious minutes one is likely to see onscreen—the performers become revelers, celebrating their upcoming tour with food and merriment and sangria. That sangria happens to be laced with LSD—something neither the dancers nor we yet know, though some pointed shots of the punch bowl and the too-frequent mentions of its contents suggest trouble—and will soon cause this utopian mini-society to erupt into death and madness. But the eruption is that of a festering boil. Cleverly, Noé follows the initial dance with a series of conversations among the participants, mostly broken off in pairs. While further fleshing out their characters and deepening certain audience connections (and introducing Tito (Vince Galliot Cumant), Emmanuelle’s young son who, being a child in a Noé film, cannot possibly meet a good end), these interactions also reveal the lie behind the seeming idyll we have just witnessed. Sexual gamesmanship, misogyny, mutual distrust, power dynamics, a general unease—even before the drugged wine has taken hold, no amount of common bond or feel-good sentiments can fully inoculate against the crassness and misanthropy of the human condition. Vive la France—unless that French flag plays less than wholesomely to some of the carousers whose skin color may have left them disadvantaged under its auspices. God is with us—unless God, wary of his waning primacy and unwilling to go down without a fight, has been against us all along.

From there, Noé gifts us one additional extended dance sequence—this time shot from above, like a devilish cousin to Busby Berkeley’s showstoppers—but the additional knowledge we have gained makes the number play very differently than its predecessor. It is still exuberant, still exciting, still full of technical and physical marvels, but there is a sense of disquiet coursing through it, of tenuous allegiances and bids for attention. The playful back-and-forth of the first dance feels slightly more strained; the seemingly effortless flow of before is supplemented with an element of jockeying and competition. All these workers building a tower, but unsure about one another’s methods or their mutual destination.

Being a Noé film, it is no surprise that from there Climax descends into recriminations and mutilation, child endangerment and incest, and ultimately into a crimson-lit nightmare resulting in death. Noé’s superb camerawork—always a hallmark—not only complements the dancing beautifully (one truly wishes that he, along with Edgar Wright, would make an out-and-out musical, though for Noé that would almost certainly have to be Sweeney Todd), it also brings to life the increasingly fragile (and ultimately disintegrated) mental states of his crew of revelers. While Selva is probably the closest thing Climax has to a protagonist as the camera follows her back and forth from the common space to the dorm rooms the group has been occupying, no one seems fully safe/sane—not Selva, as she comes undone in front of some nature-backdrop wallpaper; not Lou or Omar (Adrien Sissoko), who abstain from the sangria for personal reasons that end up visiting upon them violence (whether Western culture dislikes a Muslim or a sexually active woman more is a question Climax does not definitively resolve); not even Daddy (Kiddy Smile), as he good-naturedly DJs the proceedings. That Climax employs so much improvisation is nothing short of miraculous, given how intricately some of Noé’s long takes appear to be choreographed. But beyond mere showmanship (of his own or his performers), these extended sequences give Climax the disorienting effect of feeling both dreamlike (or, perhaps more accurately, nightmarish) and realistic. Real life does not employ the careful and selective cutting of a movie, unfolding as its own long take, yet the memories thereof are fragmented in a subconscious act of self-editing, making Noé’s aesthetic appropriately both distancing and suffocating.

This visual evocation of an unyielding descent into hell is complemented perfectly by Noé and Ken Yasumoto’s sound design. The music that previously served as an enthusiastic soundscape turns menacing and relentless, with the percussive beats and throbbing bass driving the drug-addled action perpetually forward, stymieing any possible reflective moment. Yet that merciless music is preferable to the screams and groans it sometimes drowns out—cries that are themselves preferable, in the case of Tito, to a sudden silence that is deafening in its horrific implications. Even the comparatively hospitable environs of the sleeping quarters see Dom (Mounia Nassangar) attacking Lou and Taylor (Taylor Kastle) taking advantage of his sister, Gazelle (Giselle Palmer). As the sangria brings out the group’s (somewhat) latent paranoia and aggression and worst impulses, a downward spiral is inevitable; once gravity takes hold, escape velocity becomes nearly impossible to achieve.

Unlike Irréversible, Noé does not end Climax on a tragic but perversely bittersweet note; instead, he ends it with a possible explanation for the madness that disquietingly suggests that the madness was unavoidable. The perpetrator’s outsider status implies the doomed nature of group activity. The lies told in the instigator’s interview speak to the inefficacy of preparatory efforts. Most upsettingly, the culprit’s name, drawn from Greek mythology and literally meaning “breath of life,” points back to God and the Tower of Babel. The people banded together in an attempt to do something great, something just within reach. But God wouldn’t have it. So he scrambled the synapses a bit—a different language here, a chemically disrupted neuro-receptor there—and voilà, his supremacy was re-established. But to what end? “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair,” said a king of kings, until nothing beside remained. Pride goeth before the fall; when the proud one is divine, the fall leads all the way to hell.

[queenofbaws]

UD/MoM: Of Mummy Men & Bathtub Soup - 7

Chapter: 7/? Chapter title: The happy couple Fic rating: T - Language, blood, light comedic body horror, allusions to drug usage Chapter summary: Conrad takes a trip to the library. Previous | Next ---

As he stepped out of the elevator and onto the fourteenth floor, Conrad’s first thought was that Josh had sent him to the wrong place. The lights were on, but uh, nobody was home, as the saying went. Everything was calm, quiet, and eerily still. There were none of the decorations or informational boards that the other floors had; there were only shelves and dust motes and the faintly yellow smell of old books.

“Of course,” he muttered, “Of course. ‘Trust Wash,’ I thought, ‘We’re friends,’ I thought, ‘Maybe there’s a scrap of goodwill towards man still miraculously clinging to life inside that desiccated husk of Cheetos dust and—”

“Will you be requiring assistance tonight, I wonder?”

The acoustics of the floor were shit, and that was probably for the best because the noise that came out of him? Embarrassing. At best.

Conrad sprang back as though the sheer suddenness of the voice had somehow transmogrified his legs into pistons, his surprise sending him up and around in a graceless pirouette. Were there security cameras in the library? God, he hoped not. Dear sweet merciful fuck, he hoped not. “Jesus—shit!” His voice seemed to explode out of his chest, freeing up space for his heart to bounce around between his lungs.

In complete fairness to him, the desk was pretty fucking hard to see at first glance. It was tucked away into a little alcove surrounded by intimidating (and pristine) stacks of books with spines about as thick as his wrist. There was some kind of camouflaging effect going on, and while that in and of itself was troubling, what really got him was how fucking motionless the grim motherfucker sitting behind the desk had been the whole time.

It was right around the time he made eye contact with said guy sitting behind the desk that he realized he was clutching his chest in waiflike terror. He dropped his hands back down to his sides, but he feared the damage to his sterling record of first impressions had just been irreparably tarnished. Forever.

“…I’m gonna go out on a limb here,” Conrad warbled, not totally sure the shaky simulacrum of his voice would even be audible over the crash-banging of his heart. “You’ve gotta be Edgar, huh?”

“An observation as astute as it is telling.” Edgar—if that was his real name—held his gaze for an uncomfortably long while. A really uncomfortably long while.

Like, an exceptionally uncomfortably long while.

Stupid as it was, Conrad couldn’t shake the feeling the old guy was literally peering into his soul with those chilly baby blues of his. Neither could he shake the feeling that he wasn’t impressed by what he saw.

“Am I to take it,” Edgar began again, and it was only then that enough of his earlier adrenaline dump dissipated for Conrad to register this old-timey asshole had a voice straight out of Downton Abbey (with a pocket watch to match), “You’re not here to peruse the reference materials?” There was, he thought, a trace of amusement in his voice. Something about that brought with it the sensation of finding out your boots had sprung a leak just after you stepped into a puddle.

“Uh…guess it depends. Got anything on ghosts? Ghouls? Specters, perhaps? Denizens of the dark? What about beings beyond the pale? This seems like the kind of place where you could read about an axe murder or two…”

The man behind the desk, with his thin lips and inappropriately youthful undercut, did not smile. He did not frown. He did not raise his eyebrows. He did not, as far as Conrad could tell, breathe. He simply blinked (once) and then glanced off to his left. “I do believe you’ll find what—or whom—you’re looking for just down the hall. A plaque will mark it the Creed Memorial Conference Room. Oh, and were I you…” Then he did move, looking back down to the papers spread out before him. “I would knock first.”

Surprise surprise: He didn’t need to be told twice! Conrad held his hand up to the guy in the universal sign for ‘Thanks, I’m done with this interaction now,’ and promptly dipped, giving the desk the sort of berth he would’ve granted a decently sized bear as he set off towards the conference rooms lining the floor.

The whole thing reeked of the CREEPs’ bullshit, he’d give them that much. Spooky library floor? Check. Anachronistic fancy lad librarian? Check. And because of that, as he checked each room’s plaque trying to find the one marked ‘Creed’ (passing ‘Torrance’ and ‘Sheldon’ and ‘Marsh’ as he went), he couldn’t quite make up his mind whether he was actually about to find Hartley and Ash, or if this was Wash sending him on the world’s wackiest wild goose chase.

Wild ghost chase? Was that anything? Probably not. He’d workshop it.

Just as he was about to give up on the whole thing and call it a (har-har-har) wash, he caught the faint sound of voices from up ahead. Voices and…music? Was that music? Frowning, he made his way to the final conference room door, feeling only the slightest sense of accomplishment when he saw it was, in fact, the Creed Memorial Conference Room. Creepy or not, Eddy-boy had been right about that much at least—as he approached the door, he could definitely hear muffled chatter and some kind of…shit, what was that? Was that a pan flute?

Oh, after arguing with Josh out in the rain, he did not have the patience for this kind of fuckery.

He gave the door a jaunty knock before whipping it open, ignoring the cabal of startled nerds sitting around the dice-covered conference room table…save, of course, for two in particular. Wonders never ceased! Josh hadn’t been lying to him! Finally, something was going his way tonight!

“Hey, Horror Harem,” Conrad grinned, pointedly ignoring the chick with the pixie cut and shitty dye job currently glaring daggers his way, “Gotta steal you for a sec! Important paranormal shit, chop chop.”

They’d been sitting with their backs to the door, so he couldn’t immediately see their faces, but there was no mistaking the ‘pardon me?!’ way Ash’s back went suddenly ramrod straight. “Oh, I know you’re not talking to us,” she said stiffly over the ridiculous adventuring music playing over someone’s phone speakers, refusing to turn around and look his way (unlike Hartley, who, much like grunge babe across the way, had turned for the express purpose of serving him quite the death glare from over the frames of his glasses).

Conrad gripped onto either side of the doorframe, bracing his arms as he let the rest of his body hang further into the room. “If you know I’m not talking to you, then why is it you’re the only one who answered me?”

That got her to turn.

He grinned his widest, most charming grin, putting both dimples on display as he saw the indignation thinning her lips. “Check and mate.” For just a moment he looked away from the two of them and towards the others sitting around the table, giving a nod in their general direction. “Bradical,” he said in way of greeting, “Other assorted dorks.” Beaming, he levered himself backwards, knocking the doorjamb twice to hurry them along. “C’mon! It’ll just be a sec and then you can all go back to saving Hogwarts or whatever.”

There were some, hmm, passionate reactions to that, but he just snickered and stepped back out of the room, taking a few paces to the side as he waited for them. And boy oh boy, he didn’t have to wait long. Peachy.

Josh’s bizarre side quest assignment aside, he hadn’t been too worried about convincing Hartley and Ash to go along with his reindeer game. Against his award-winning charisma and social knowhow? They were little more than socially anxious lemmings just waiting to jump off whatever cliff he pointed them at.

Except, uh…

Huh.

Except the two people who joined him outside the conference room weren’t quite the Hartley and Ash he’d been expecting. It was…shit, it was like Washington all over again.

There they were, picture-perfect replicas of the dweebs he knew and…well, maybe not loved, but like…tolerated, only they were…wrong. They were wrong.

For one thing, there was none of the usual giggly, sappy play-flirting he’d come to expect from the two of them—that was probably the most shocking part of it all, really, the fact that as they faced him, Ash leaned herself up against Hartley’s side and he had his hand on her hip. And yeah, sure, he would’ve gone for back pocket, front pocket, curve of waist in that order, but this was an improvement! A vast improvement! Maybe that trip up to Blackwood had done them some good!

They were still seriously weirding him out, though.

“What, Conrad?” And uh oh. Hoo doggy. No ‘Connie’ from Ashley? Not off to the best start. “What’s so important that you had to—”

“Wait, Josh didn’t like…text you guys?” He watched them exchange a perplexed look and did nothing to hide his sigh of relief. “Okay, never mind—”

“No, hang on. Why would Josh—”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, I need you guys to tell him you’re totally still on board to scare Alex, okay? So just pull out those little phones of yours and—”

“No. Absolutely not.” If Ashley shook her head any harder than that, she was prone to give herself some kind of concussion. “Not today, not tomorrow, not next week, not next year, not when I’m thirty-five. Not happening.”

“Uh,” Hartley said, dragging the sound out until it approached Bob’s Burgers territory. “Yeah. We don’t…did you not hear? We don’t do the ghost hunting thing anymore, man. It got, uh, weird.”

Mhm. Yup. This was Wash all over again, all right. Mother. Fucker. He reached up to run his hands through his (still rain-damp) hair, letting his eyes roll up towards the ceiling as he did so. “You guys are so bad at this whole ‘teamwork’ thing, I swear to Christ. Does the term ‘verbal contract’ mean nothing to any of you?”

“We’re doing this podcast now,” Hartley continued, acting as if he hadn’t heard him. “It’s actually going pretty well, and—”

“No one cares about your podcast.”

“Except they do.”

“Except they don’t. You can tell yourself they do, that’s fine, we all lie to ourselves about things to help us sleep at night, but one day you’re going to have to accept that no one, in fact, gives a shit about your podcast, Cochise.”

“Dude! For the last time—”

There was a part of him, a small, surprised part, the part that always made a point to eat the entire fortune cookie to make sure the good fortunes came true, that made a mental note to start checking his horoscope on the days he was interacting with the CREEPs from henceforth. He didn’t know what other course of action he could take, honestly, because Ash stepping forward to cut them both off was a twist on par with Bruce Willis having been dead the whole time, and like…a little forewarning might’ve been nice.

Her arms had been folded across her chest in a familiar huff, but as she took those scant couple steps to put herself in his face, she dropped them. Instead, she poked her index finger into his chest. It was an admonishment, an accusation, and wowie-zowie, boys and girls…she’d put enough force into it that he could feel it jabbing into his sternum even through his jacket. “You,” she began in a tone of voice that had him cringing under the memory of so many after-class reprimands, “Asked if Josh texted us. Which leads me to believe you started sniffing around him first. Bet he said no, huh? Huh? Know why he said no, Conrad? Know why? Because we’ve seen what happens when you make fun of the frigging spirit world, and it’s not a joke!”

There was a lot to unpack there, but he didn’t really want to, uh, do that. “Is this the part where you guys get real cryptic and sort of insinuate you saw a ghost up in Blackwood?” he asked, lifting his eyes from the finger in his chest to meet Ashley’s gaze. “Josh kinda insinuated—”

“Saw a gh—I got p—” She pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and took a step back from him, raking her fingers through her hair as she turned an about-face to look Chris’s way for a beat; when she spoke to him again, she’d lowered her voice until she was nearly whispering. “You want to know what happened when we got there, Conrad? You really wanna know? Hannah and Beth were there, and they weren’t happy, and I got freaking possessed!” The rest of her breath escaped her in a sound awfully close to an airsoft rifle being fired. “So, like, sorry! But no more ghost stuff, okay? None!”

This was…well it was precious is what it was. Or, barring that, it was about as close to precious as things got. The way they were looking at him with those big ol’ eye of theirs? Awkwardly toying with the strings of their hoodies and messing with their hair? Precious! It was like they actually believed the shit they were saying.

God they spent too much time with Wash. The guy had ruined them. They were beyond saving. Hopeless. It was kind of sad, really.

Hilarious! But sad.

“Uh huh…” he said thoughtfully, his hands folded in front of his face as though in prayer. His eyes moved from Brown to Hartley, from Hartley to Brown, and, knowing full well it would rustle every last one of Chris’s nerdy little jimmies, he reached out to take both of Ashley’s hands in his. “You,” Conrad said slowly, “Need. To give me. The name of your dealer.” Ashley yanked her hands away with a groan and that only made him grin. She had to be careful—any more of that and he’d be looking downright crocodilian up in this bitch. “Okay, okay! Know what? Fair. That’s fair! No, you’re right, that was a real forward thing to ask. Here—” Still beaming, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tried to hand it to her. “—just put their number in my phone, that’s all I need.”

“Conrad.”

“That’s all I need, Ash! Don’t tell me their name, that’s fine! Just, in the space where their name should go, type in whatever the fuck they’ve been supplying you guys with, because real talk? I need me some of that to get through the doldrums of this perilously upper middle class life I’ve been trudging through.”

“You’re a tool, dude.” Rolling his eyes, Chris smacked his phone away.

“Ah, but even the bluntest of tools has its use, grasshopper.” Oh, it was way too hard to hold back his laughter now. “Seriously? Seriously. First Wash feeds me some bullshit about you guys going to Blackwood—without yours truly being invited, I might add, despite how much you know I looove skiing and hot tubbing—and ‘everything changing’ because of it. And now? Now you two are doing the whole spooky horror movie shtick?” He raised his eyebrows and searched their faces; Chris could lie like a dog when Josh put him up to it, yeah, but Ash couldn’t handle omitting shit, let alone full-blown lying. “You’re smart people. Morons, don’t get me wrong, but like, smart.”

“Thanks?”

“Nice.”

“And smart people have to realize that ‘Boo hoo, I’m a real ghost whisperer—’”

“Technically I think it’s more like…being a medium? I didn’t really do a lot of, um, whispering, per se. It was strictly a physical sort of thing.”

“—is horseshit of the highest degree. So c’mon. Let it go. Just tell me if this is some dumb thing Wash has planned so I can get on with my life, okay? I’ll even pretend to be surprised when whatever happens happens, yeah? Cut me some slack here.”

Across from him, Chris had taken to rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d managed to knock his glasses askew in the process, and while he knew what the guy was trying to communicate was just a whole shitton of frustration bubbling up, the only thing Conrad was gleaning from the performance was sheer dork-ery. “W-w-why are we even bothering to explain this?” he asked Ash, “Obviously he’s just gonna think…no, fuck this. There were ghosts, man! Like…real goddamn ghosts.” He straightened his glasses, and when he did, the look behind those Buddy Holly frames of his wasn’t an especially chummy one. “Shit was moving. Shit got thrown—fuck, people got thrown! We almost got pancaked by that ugly fucking sculpture Josh’s mom paid like $30k for, so like…fuck off? Fuck off.”

“What he said.”

“Fuck right off, Conrad. This isn’t a joke. Ash broke fingers, okay? Plural. Josh broke his fucking ass—”

She rolled her eyes and muttered “Tailbone” from the side of her mouth, the faintest hint of a smile playing there.

“Same thing!”

“Not really…”

He had to give it to them: They could sure stick to a bit. Did he believe them any more than Wash? Nah. Could they be contenders for this year’s Oscars? Oh for sure. But much as he was enjoying hanging around in the spookiest goddamn part of campus when we could’ve been doing literally anything else, the time for marveling at their shitty LARPing skills had come to an end.

“Okay kids, this has been…charming. Look, I’ll stop asking about the whole Blackwood thing if it helps, but the fact remains you and the rest of the lunch bunch owe me a solid. So how’s about you get those phones of yours out…pull up your cute little Ghost Adventures group text…and you tell Josh to man the fuck up and help me scare the living bejeezus out of my sister’s boyfriend!”

“Nope.”

“Ash.”

“No!”

“Ashley.”

“I said no and I meant no.”

“Do you want me to grovel? Is that what’s going to do it for you? I didn’t figure you for the humiliation-kink set, but if that’s what a guy’s gotta do—”

Changed man or not, that seemed to toe Hartley’s limit. “Yeah, okay, can we hurry this up? I dunno if you noticed this, man, but everyone’s in there waiting for us…”

“Mordor will be fine without you two for another few minutes.” There was a Look™ that passed between them at that, and even though he did his level best not to notice it, that didn’t make it go away. And honestly? Honestly? He was getting a little tired of having supreme judgment passed down unto him by nerds of their caliber. “Now look—”

Again Ashley interrupted him, speaking over his voice with all the firm, unyielding authority of the brown-nosing kid the teacher left in charge before leaving the classroom. “No, you look,” she said, her eyebrows raised, “This conversation’s done. We’re not doing it. Sorry! So see you later or whatever because we’re holding everyone up and that’s super uncool, especially since it’s Andrew’s first session tonight and—”

There was no fighting it—he made a face. “And just who in the fuck is Andrew?”

“He’s this guy in mine and Josh’s creative writi—”

“Nonono, sorry, my bad, poor word choice. What I meant to ask was: Why the fuck should I care about Andrew?”

Hartley looked like he might answer for a second there…but then, apparently not coming up with any solid reasons as to why Andrew mattered in the grand scheme of things, sort of half-shrugged Ash’s way.

Good. He’d chalk that one up as an encouraging sign this conversation wasn’t completely unsalvageable. Just mostly.

Dear sweet Ashley, though…well she was still more than a little puffed up by the whole thing. “We’re trying to be nice, okay?” she hissed, lowering her voice as though worried the others had their ears pressed to the door so they could eavesdrop on them, and fuck, maybe they did! He had to figure it wasn’t every day that someone as radiant and magnetic as he was walked into their lives to—

The door to the conference room opened then, only adding fuel to his ‘all the nerds were secretly eavesdropping’ theory, and a rather put out and decidedly familiar face appeared in the doorway to join them. “Are you guys coming back or what?” asked one Mr. Bradley Smith (AKA Brad, AKA Bradical, AKA B-Rad, AKA Ray Bradlebury, AKA Braddyshack, AKA Smithsonian, AKA Alex’s significantly less intolerable brother). “Should I just tell everyone to go? We can pick up next week if you need to bail.”

“We super don’t need to bail. We’re coming—”

“Hey! Boo Bradley! What’s shakin’, my guy?”

The look Brad shot him wasn’t quite the long-suffering affair he might’ve expected from Ash, nor was it the abject exasperation Hartley had shown him—it was, above all else, tired and betrayed. “Conrad,” he said, offering him naught in the way of a polite greeting, “I have, admittedly, no idea why you needed to interrupt my game like this, but I gotta let you know man, I’ve spent two weeks planning tonight’s session, and you just annihilated my narrative flow.”

Now, he couldn’t be sure…but that certainly felt like a geek burn of the highest degree.

“We’ll be right there,” Ash apologized, shooting Conrad one last pointed look from the corner of her eye, “This is just some stupid—”

“Actually…” The cogs in his brain had begun a’turning (a dangerous event in its own right), and they were quickly approaching Mach V. “Hang on just a hot sec…I think…hey, so, Brad…”

Before he could say anything else, Brad let out a tired breath. “No. Can…can I just preemptively say no?”

“Let’s say I need to…stop by you guys’ place sometime this week, with uh…” Conrad paused just long enough to throw an arm around Hartley’s shoulders, giving him a friendly jostle, “…with some friends of mine…do you think you’d be able to, oh, I dunno…let us know when no one else is home? And then maybe…perhaps…let us in? Or…?”

Chris shoved him away with his elbow. “Don’t fucking bring Brad in on this, dude!”

The overhead lights glinted off of Brad’s glasses in such a way that he couldn’t tell the exact expression on his face, but the contemplative twist of his mouth told him all he needed to know. “…why would you need that? Why would you need to be in there when no one else i—know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. I do not want to know. Don’t even consider telling me, because I will repeat: I do not want to know.”

Really, Conrad thought to himself, That’s probably for the best. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brad to keep the prank a secret, it was just that…okay, no, wait, hang on a second…that’s exactly what it was. The fact of the matter was that Brad Smith lied like hamsters ate steak—which was to say it was hysterical to watch him try, but ultimately the only result was intense discomfort and secondhand agony.

“It’s just…” he glanced the CREEPs’ way as Hartley wrenched himself out of his clutches. “It’s a brother thing, okay? Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Brad let out another exhale that teetered awfully close to a preteen’s sigh. “Fine. Whatever. Now, can I please get those two back? This whole encounter is integral to their characters’ arcs, and we’re kind of at a major stand-still until they—”

“Not until they say yes.” He kept his gaze on Brad that time, affording the other two an opportunity to share whatever looks they needed to. If they thought he was going to let his hooks out of them that easily, they had another thing coming. “Not for nothing,” Conrad added under his breath, pulling his phone out for the sole purpose of pretending to scroll through his unread emails, “But Brad’s on board, sooo…”

That same eerie silence settled around them, broken only by the rhythmic tapping of Ashley’s foot against the floor. No one said anything for an exceedingly long time (at least by his count), but if he knew their particular brand of social anxiety, having Bradical there, waiting, could only help his cause.

“I’m not going unless Sam’s going.” Ashley said it with the air of a woman facing down a firing squad. “If Sam tells me personally that she’ll do it, then sure. Fine. Whatever. We’ll do it too. But that’s the only way, Conrad, I mean it.”

Knowing he was pushing his luck, he allowed himself a brief ‘booyah’ arm pump, sliding his phone back into his pocket before opening his arms for a group hug that, surprisingly, neither she nor Hartley went for. “I hear you loud and clear. Really, I do! Don’t you worry, I’ll make sure that Sam signs your permission slip for you and puts it into a nice little envelo—”

“And,” she added, jabbing that surprisingly pointy finger of hers into his chest again, “I’m not pretending to be possessed, no matter how hard you ask.”

“Uh,” Brad said from the doorway.

Gingerly plucking her finger away from him and letting her hand drop, Conrad offered her the most uninterested shrug he could muster. “No one said you had to! Who am I to guide your artistic vision, Ash? Do whatever you want, as long as you do something, that’s all I ask!”

Her mouth was still a wrinkle of displeasure, but she seemed to be satisfied with that. Well, as satisfied as she ever seemed with anything, anyway.

“Are we done?” Chris asked, already beginning to inch his way towards Brad and the open door again, tugging Ashley along with him. Something about the sight of it made Conrad change his mind: Their middle school brand of play-flirting was way less annoying than the attached-at-the-hip thing. “Can we get back to our game now, please? Or are there any other incredibly pressing questions you just need to ask us?”

Conrad tapped a finger to his chin as though giving it some thought. Really he should’ve just left well enough alone…convincing Sam was, after all, already on his to-do list, so in a way he’d gotten the best answer out of them that he could’ve expected…but since when was he the sort of person to quit while he was ahead?

“Yeah, know what? One last question actually. Why oh why do you guys meet on the floor where the fucking Crypt Keeper is the resident librari…an…” He went to gesture towards the old guy who’d spooked him on his way in, only to feel his words trail away as he saw the desk down the hall was perfectly, completely, utterly…empty. No man. No books. No papers. No light. Nothing.

He blinked a couple times, and when he looked back to the others, he couldn’t help but feel a brief spike of uncertainty in his gut at the expressions on their faces. Ash frowned, leaning to the side to peer around him in the direction of the desk, Brad shrugged noncommittally, but it was Hartley that got him; there was something about the way he stared at him, his forehead creased and his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Uh…librarian?” he asked after a second. “I-I-I don’t know what to tell you, man, but like…” Hartley met Ash’s eyes in a private look Conrad didn’t really want to dissect. “There…there hasn’t been a librarian on this floor iiiiin over fiiiiifty yeeeeears…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—”

Hartley snickered like the doofus he was, throwing in some A-plus finger waggling for extra spooky effect. The worst, though, the absolute worst, was when Ash got in on the giggles, because then his grin went from pleased to absolutely shit-eating, and like…ha ha ha. Wasn’t it fun how everyone and their mother could laugh at Conrad’s expense? So fucking funny. Hi-larious.

“Yeah, cute. Real cute. Know what? You morons deserve each other, that’s what I think.”

“Aw shucks…” Ash smirked, pressing herself that much closer against Hartley’s side, “But like, just FYI, technically Chris isn’t wrong. Edgar’s not a librarian. He’s—”

“The curator,” came a voice from just behind him, and fuck if he didn’t jump and yell out like a little kid wandering through a haunted house (again). His only consolation that time around was that Hartley had done the same. “Am I to assume that you’re done for the evening?” Spooky McSpooksalot asked, and while Conrad really did not want to turn around to look at the guy again, the sound of his voice was giving him an idea of how uncomfortably tall the old guy was, and he just had to check.

“Oh, no, we’re still probably going to be playing for a while, if that’s all right. We got…” Ashley’s eyes flicked to Conrad for an instant, and somehow the wry amusement he saw there was so much worse than her earlier scorn, “…held up.”

As though he understood the ins and outs of tabletop RPGs, Edgar nodded. “I see. Well, if that’s the case, would I be able to ask a favor of you then, Miss Brown?”

The way she snapped her attention (and her neck) towards him was, in a word, creepy as fuck. …one, two…okay, so that was three words, but that didn’t change things. If Ash had had a tail, there was no question in Conrad’s mind that it would’ve been wagging madly back and forth like that of an abused border collie being promised pets for the first time in its miserable life. She looked up (and up and up) at Edgar, not not as though he were a library employee, but instead a rock-god. A legend.

Or like…Jason Momoa.

“A favor?”

“I don’t suppose you’d mind locking up the conference room once you’re done for the night?” He wouldn’t go so far as to say that the old guy looked friendlier as he said it, but there was a distinct twinkle in those icy vulture’s eyes he hadn’t seen before.

If such a thing were possible, Ashley’s already perfect posture went somehow even straighter. “I—of course! I’ll get the lights and everything else too—are you sure?”

Edgar chuckled and Conrad shivered. It was a solid one too, the kind of dramatic side-to-side shake his Gramps said meant a goose somewhere was walking over his grave. He’d never really understood what in the fuck that was supposed to mean before, but hearing that laugh helped clarify things.

From his key ring he removed a card key (why he had those on a ring meant for skeleton keys, Conrad couldn’t even begin to fathom) and held it out to Ash, who took it with all the trembling reverence of someone receiving a personal blessing from the Pope. “Quite sure,” he said once she’d palmed it. “I’m afraid I’ve been called away and as such won’t be here to bid your adventuring retinue goodnight, but I’m certain the hands I’m leaving this responsibility in are the capable sort.”

He thought Ash might cry. There might’ve literally been tears welling there. He wanted to say he could see her lower lip quivering, but it always sort of did that, so. Hard to tell.

He also thought this was…shit, this was probably supposed to be some kind of sweet moment? Maybe? Possibly? Fuck, he guessed it could’ve been, had it not been so goddamn weird.

Without worrying about being noticed, he glanced Hartley’s and Bradical’s way, narrowing his eyes to ask the obvious.

Brad shrugged. So did Chris.

Well. Okay. At least it wasn’t just him. There was comfort in that realization…sort of.

Leaning in towards him while Ashley and Edgar were distracted, Conrad stage-whispered, “Hey man, how’s it feel, knowing your girlfriend’s clearly in love with the reanimated corpse of a seventy-year-old British dandy, huh? Does it sting to know she loves that walking skeleton more than you? I bet it stings.”

Instead of the usual jealous bellyaching he’d come to expect, Chris just sort of rolled his eyes. “Oh puh-lease. For your information, Conrad, Edgar’s a married man. I’m not too worried about the threat he poses.”

Well well. Who was this guy and what had he done with Hartley? It was like the word ‘girlfriend’ was some sort of magical talisman that made him 12% less insufferable. Well, okay, 11%.

While it troubled him deeply to try and imagine the sort of maniac who might marry the Ghost of Christmas Future over there, that wasn’t what was on his mind as he stepped back out of the library and into the stormy night a few minutes later. No, no…he had bigger things to worry about. And by ‘bigger,’ he meant ‘shorter.’

And ‘blonder.’

And ‘Sam.’

He was very, very worried about Sam.

[wonderlandleighleigh]

98 Thoughts while watching A New Hope

1. Who was that silver protocol droid? What happened to them? Are they okay? where are they now?? I bet they’re cooler than 3P0.

2. Rebel helmets are just silly.

3. I love how dirty R2 and 3P0 are. 

4. Man, Rex is right. Empire-era Stormtrooper armor is total shit.

5. Shut up Anakin.

6. Oh Space Mom. I will miss Carrie Fisher forever. 

7. Anakin fucking - he asks a question just as he kills the dude. Like- why-? Shut up Anakin.

8. Something I really love about this first movie is that Leia doesn’t do anything overtly sexily. When she gets shot, she’s literally just laid out on the floor, on her belly. It’s not meant to be hot. And even later when she’s tortured, it’s not meant to be a male gaze thing.

9. For fuck’s sake Anakin. Your daughter is standing right fucking there, and you can’t even sense it. What a dumb. 

10. R2 is like “Fuck. This place again?”  But 3P0 was created on Tatooine and he doesn’t even remember. That’s kinda sad. 

11. As Dettiot says, you can really tell that 3P0 was created by a 9 year old Anakin. Yeesh.

12. I really love the Jawas. They’re so strange, and wonderful. 

13. I wonder what R2 was thinking about when he was walking all that time by himself on Tatooine. Was he thinking about Anakin? Was he thinking about the war? Or Padme? Or Ahsoka? 

14. Man, Tatooine at dusk is beautiful, isn’t it?

15. These Stormtroopers have sand on their butts. I never noticed. 

16. I remember thinking the Jawa going “bobit! bobit!” was very funny as a kid.

17. Beru Whitesun. Former slaver liberator. Secret bad-ass. She and Owen really deserved better. 

18. R2: I cannot believe my old master’s son is leaving me the fuck behind. What the fuck is this shit. Get back here. Do you know how much I suffered for your dumb dad? 

19. Luke playing with toy ships just like Anakin did. And didn’t Obi-Wan make some of those in one continuity or another? *sad* 

20. R2: ANOTHER SKYWALKER OH GOD. 

21. SHE IS YOUR SISTER. Do NOT falling in love with your SISTER.

22. R2′s memory has never been wiped. Aside from Leia’s message, gold only knows what other recordings are saved on his hard drive. 

23. Blue milk! 

24. And Owen lying his ass of to Luke. Ugh.

25. I remember as a kid thinking that Owen was too grumpy/mean. But he’s a really good person. He raised this kid, and wants nothing more than to do right by him. Done so dirty. 

26. But Luke’s pensive moment watching the suns set is so beautiful.

27. I desperately want to know how Beru’s cooker works. I want one. It looks so cool. 

28. I want a Bantha. 

29. R2 trying to wake Luke up is such a moment. 

30. Obi-Wan’s krate dragon impersonation is amazing. I wish he’d do it more often.

31. I have feelings about his old, dusty Jedi robes.  In fact, everytthing about old Ben gives me feelings. He lost everything, and has been hiding in the desert for twenty years. 

32. “He’s searching for his former master. I’ve never seen so much devotion in a droid before.” Obi-Wan’s face is so haunted in this moment. Fuck.

33. R2: WHY YOU PLAYING YOU KNOW ME! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

34. Owen told Luke his father sold drugs. The. Fuck.

35. “He was the best star pilot. And a cunning warrior. And he was a good friend.” *sads* 

36. Obi-Wan sat in the desert with his brother’s lightsaber for twenty years, just mourning everything that had happened. Fuck. 

37. Obi-Wan stop LYING. 

38. Obi-Wan’s face clearly says, while Leia’s recording plays, “Oh shit. All this crap is catching up to me. Again. I’ll never ever be rid of Skywalkers.” 

39. Obi-Wan has such terrible ideas. Still.

40. I just love that Vader hates the Death Star. Anakin hates the Death Star the way Steve Rogers hates Stark Tower. 

41. Aaaand bye-bye senate. I wonder if that will happen here in the US at some point if Trump keeps Trumping along.

42. Tarken and Vader’s bromance is such a thing.

43. Ha! “accurate.” “precise.” Stormtroopers. Ha. 

44. Owen and Beru’s fate is so gruesome. I was always so shocked by how much we were shown. Damn. Grim. And again, done so dirty. More Skywalker adjacent family dead. 

45. Shut up, Anakin.

46. More grim shit. Burning the Jawa bodies. 

47. Poor Luke. He lost everything that day. He thought his father and mother were both dead, and now his uncle and aunt are truly dead. So yeah. Following a weird wizard on a quest. 

48. Mos Eisley doesn’t seem dangerous. Just goofy. 

49. Alec Guinness’  delivery of the Jedi mind trick is so casual. So sly. Love it.

50. CHEWBACCA! WHAT A WOOKIE! 

51. Why does everybody hate droids??? 

52. omg. Luke tugging on the bartender’s shirt. Wtf Luke. Just say “Excuse me.” That’s so rude.

53. Obi-Wan just slicing off that dude’s arm...a little reactionary maybe? AND NOBODY DOES OR SAYS ANYTHING. 

54. Obi-Wan is so unimpressed by Han. omg.

55. Obi-Wan is just gonna hit up Bail and Breja for cash when they get to Alderaan. Dang. 

56. “I’m never coming back to this planet again.” heh.

57. Han shot first. Fuck all of this.

58. You know why her resistance to the mind probe is considerable? BECAUSE SHE IS YOUR DAUGHTER YOU DUMB ROBOT MAN. 

59. CGI Jabba is weak sauce.

60. “Even I get boarded sometimes” is the name of Han Solo’s sex tape. 

61. Luke’s poncho is so cute.

62. Leia is the best. 

63. Tarken is wearing comfy slippers.

64. The reason why even if Vader made amends with Luke, Leia will never forgive him, is right here. Not only did he torture her, but he stood back and watched while they destroyed her home. She will never be able to forgive him. Ever. And that’s legit. She doesn’t have to. 

65. I believe Chewie actually does beat someone with their own arm.

66. Obi-Wan’s smile when Han says there’s no mystical Force controlling his destiny was so good.

67. Even when there’s nobody else in the room, Vader doesn’t get to sit down. What the fuck.

68. Obi-Wan knows he’s gonna die.

69. Mark Hamill talks so fast.

(I accidentally took a nap during Leia’s rescue and the trash compactor scene. I was tired, and I’ve seen this movie so many times)

70.  Han screaming after the Stormtroopers is such a fucking mood.

71. Vader vs. Obi-Wan here...I have a lot of feelings about these two disasters fighting agai- SHUT UP ANAKIN.

72. Not only does Obi-Wan sacrifice himself to give Luke an exit, but he does so because he’s giving Anakin a choice in terms of killing him or not. He’s giving him a moment of grace here, I think. To not be an evil fuck. But uh...Vader.

73. When Obi-Wan says “You can’t win.” He’s not talking about the duel. He’s talking about over-all. Being a Sith means that he can’t win. And his “If you strike me down, I’ll become more powerful than you can possibly imagine” refers to the amount of guilt and shame Anakin will feel in killing his brother. That that will eat at his soul. And it does.

74. Vader stepping on the robes to make sure Obi-Wan is dead is hilarious in such a weird morbid way.

74. In a weird flip, Vader now has Obi-Wan lightsaber, as Obi-Wan had Anakin’s. 

75. Poor Luke. Owen, Beru and Obi-Wan all in one day. 

76. 1st person shooter time! 

77. Oh Han and Leia. My first fucking ship. So fighty. So sexy. I love them.

78. Stop flirting badly with your sister Luke.

79. ...who is Luke jealous of here? 

80. I love the HC that Vader knew about the weakness in the Death Star, and hated that fucking thing so much he never mentioned it. 

81. R2 back in starfighter with a Skywalker.

82. I swear Red Leader looks like Don Knotts. 

83. I love X-Wings so much.

84. Vader’s reflexes behind the controls of a starfighter must be fucked compared to what they were pre-Mustafar. 

85. Luke watching all these people die like “Ooh. I guess this is what Han was talking about.” 

86. Oh Tarkin. You gonna regret everything in a couple minutes. 

87. Biggs’ mustache is majestic.

88. Luke saves Wedge’s life by telling him to get the fuck out. Later, Wedge will likely sing “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” 

89. The targeting system feels so old-timey. 

90. Obi-Wan you trained him for like 20 minutes. He doesn’t know what he’s doin- okay.

91. ANAKIN! HOw dare yOu ShoOT R2! 

92. Good job Han. <3 I actually really love Han a lot. He’s not a smart man, but he’s a pretty good man. 

93. The Death Star is destroyed, Tarkin dies, and Vader goes spinning off into space. Some fics have him traveling through time! 

94. The original trio is so pure in this movie. I love them so much. The sequels did all three of them so dirty. 

95. Leia’s necklace is so good.

96. And Luke’s Jacket is so bad. I’ve seen photos of it replaced by a brown jacket and it is so much better. 

97. Remember everybody. Rex is at the ceremony somewhere, watching a Skywalker get a medal. 

98. I love this fucking movie. 

[greenhatsinthesky]

lockdown film no. 27 - Us (2019) dir. Jordan Peele

20/04/2020

- as previously stated, I’m not a horror person. I don’t like jump scares or gratuitous violence. But this? Outstanding. It was one of the most genuinely, properly deeply scary films I’ve ever seen and while the imagery was scary and it did adhere to some of the tropes of horror films the scariest thing about it was the concept and how clever the plot was that made it so good 

- there was so much clever cinematography with the theme of mirroring (obviously all the mirrors, Jeremiah 11:11) which reminded me a bit of the themes in shadow of a doubt but obviously better because its Jordan peele and not hitchcock

- fuck me the colours were astonishing

- i loved the way we didn’t get everything all at once. Like when young Adelaide is in the mirror house and her tether is facing the other way, we were kind of drip fed that scene throughout the film as we learnt more stuff

- I LIKE THAT

- JANELLE MONÁE ON A FUCKING SOUNDTRACK WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- that song fits so well with the concept as well - of not being the same as everyone else and the lyric “i’m always left of centre” is political but it’s also being slightly off like being the tether of someone else and I fucking love it

- the girl who played young Adelaide/Red was incredible 

- i can’t get over how clever the little details are that reference Adelaide’s backstory like everything makes sense pretty much. Like how she ate strawberries instead of the chicken because as a kid she could only eat rabbits. And how she clicks on the offbeat for the song in the car but says to Jason “get in rhythm” because she doesn’t know she’s offbeat

- “It’s not about drugs, its a dope song, don’t do drugs”

- i got anxious every time someone appeared in front of a mirror

- wow the white children were awful

- he nailed the idleness of phatic talk especially with rich upper class white people. Also the subtle alcoholism of it being ‘vodka o’clock’ in the middle of the day and the comedic thing of straight white couples apparently hating each other

- “There’s a family in our driveway.” “No there’s not a family in our driveway.” *2 seconds later.* “Huh. Who’s that?”

- it’s such a simple idea but it works so well! It’s just a home invasion and the terrible anxiety that comes with the possibility of your family being hurt but it’s so fucking good !!

- the three clicks and they absolutely scattered. Terrifying 

- old timey scissors scare me now. Thanks pal 

- the first scene with the tethered family was outstanding. 

- can’t get over how good lupita nyong’o is?? Like who gave her the right and also she is so under appreciated l mean give this woman every award

- gabe’s character was so perfectly summed up when red did the whole monologue about the girl and her shadow and his response was to offer them money

- “You can have the boat for all I care.” “Nobody wants the boat, Dad.” Perfection

- the white family was absolutely peak yuppie and I really hated them so I wasn’t sad to see them go. I did not enjoy the bubbly sound Elisabeth moss was making as she died, however 

- while the bit with Elisabeth moss putting lip gloss on was very creepy, it felt a bit overdone and not quite as nuanced as lupita nyong’o’s performance. Full could not deal with her cutting her face open with scissor though

- it was extremely disturbing to see the whole family get a bit too into trying to kill the people who are hurting them. Obviously it’s important that they keep themselves alive and defeat the bad guys but the kids too? Also it must be so traumatic for the kids to see their parents really trying to kill people

- why does the yuppie child move like a vampire ???

- THE KILL COUNT WHAT THE FUCK

- i appreciated that the majority of the rabbits in the tunnels were white. I know its a bit niche but normally things that are meant to be scary are dark colours which kind of feeds into the insidious idea that dark things and therefore people who have dark skin are scary. In old films the good guy always rides a white horse and the bad guy is always on a black horse, for example, and ravens are a symbol of bad stuff while doves are a symbol of peace. Anyway I just liked the way that one of the main scary symbols is super bright white which goes against a lot of the general symbolism 

- im not generally a fan of ‘the speech at the end that explains everything’ and id rather things be revealed in a more organic way instead of us just being told, but this definitely isn’t the worst one I’ve seen 

- WEIRD FOCUS NO THANKS 

- the cinematography of the tunnel cut together with red and Adelaide dancing, yes please 

- i know its always pretty grim when a vicious death happens in a film but red’s death was absolutely dire. Like all you could hear was the sound of her and then Adelaide’s breathing. And then Adelaide starts laughing? That felt weird. Everyone seems to have a very a bubbly sound with their blood when they die in this which was scary as fuck

- i think the important thing to remember in this is that while there are characters who endanger the protagonists, they can’t really be seen as antagonists because they haven’t actively done anything wrong. I mean red did try to organise a revolution but that was because her life was stolen from her by her tether, who you can’t really blame because she has the right to want an actual life too. Basically no one and everyone is to blame in some sense because you can understand everyone’s motivation

- there was a lot of Kubrick gazing going on with young red/adelaide

- ive seen some speculation about Jason and Pluto and who’s who and if he knows about Adelaide being a tether (as opposed to a whole person?)

- the whole thing reminds me of the idea of soulmates and how plato theorised that two people who were meant to be together were built as one and then they were split apart and had to find each other. The idea of being half a person/being until you find the other person who makes you whole - in isolation they’re both their own entities but not completely