olivish

[olivish]

DAY, EXT. in the gently thawing woods outside Kier DEVON: Can you -- this birthing cabin, you can take us there, right? So we can talk to his innie? COBEL: Not yet. Even under the cover of dark, it's perilous. We wait for night.

2 hOuRs LaTeR...

DEVON hugs her whipping jacket as she studies the treeline, looking for nothing in particular. MARK leans against the car, fists in his pockets, scuffing his boot into the mud underfoot, each swipe digging the hole a bit deeper. COBEL watches the road like a sentry, unmoved and unmoving. She may or may not have blinked in the past two hours. With a heavy sigh, DEVON checks her watch. She's so fucking hungry. She goes to her car and rummages in the glovebox for a granola bar, but all she finds are wrappers. DEVON: Fuck. MARK rotates his head a few degrees, squinting at his sister through the hair in his eyes. DEVON: How far back was that gas station? Was it... it after the turn for Kiercrest, right? MARK: Why? DEVON: I think I'm gonna get a sandwich. MARK: A gas station sandwich. Wow. Are you like, suicidal, or... DEVON: No more suicidal than the guy with a freshly drilled hole in his head. Did she even Spackle over it, or... MARK: Still healthier than a gas station sandwich. COBEL (nearly inaudible): I have quiche. The siblings Scout turn to COBEL. Did she just speak? DEVON: Sorry, what? COBEL shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her lips barely move as she repeats,

COBEL: I have quiche. MARK: Yeah, quiche. Okay. Well, if it's even half as bad as your revolting cookies, MRS SELVIG-- COBEL: I didn't make the quiche. My boyfriend did. DEVON: I'm sorry, wait-- MARK: Now I've heard everything. DEVON: You have a boyfriend? MARK: She's making it up. She told me she had a dead husband building her a house in the afterlife. Never saw those blueprints, by the way. COBEL: My boyfriend is a real person. He owns a diner and he sent me off with a quiche. For my journeys. DEVON and MARK exchange a look. COBEL's eyes narrow into slits as she trudges to the truck to get the quiche, in an aluminum pie plate, covered with cling wrap. The cling wrap blows off in the wind. COBEL pretends not to notice the plastic float away as she marches back through the snow and presents incontrovertible proof of her boyfriend's existence to the unbelievers.

DEVON: Wow, that looks... um, you ate half already? COBEL: It's from the diner. It's a popular item. MARK: Oh, so your boyfriend gave you half a quiche. Is that right? Wow, congratulations, he must really love you so much. DEVON: Mark, don't be an asshole. MARK: I'm not being an asshole, I'm just getting the latest story straight. Her boyfriend gave her half a quiche from his diner at like, nine in the morning, which, by the way, means it's leftovers... DEVON, to COBEL: I'm sorry. MARK: And everyone knows eggs travel super well, so giving them to her for her journeys was an incredibly thoughtful gesture from her boyfriend. Sounds like soulmates to me. COBEL, quiche in hand, advances steadily on Mark, her gaze trained on him like a laser-guided missile. MARK's mocking grin fades as confusion sets in, then something approaching fear as he stumbles back a step.

COBEL: And then Imogene gaveth Kier a bounty eggs for his journeys, so he would know neither hunger of flesh nor of spirit, and by her eggs he knew her love, and would eat no other eggs but hers thereafter. MARK's mouth falls open but no sound comes out. COBEL flashes a dominating smile. She walks back to her truck, pausing at the door to wrestle a fork from depths of her coat pocket. She wipes the fork clean of lint before she eats alone in the truck with the door closed. DEVON gives MARK a disapproving glare. MARK: Seriously? You're on her side? DEVON: She was gonna share that. MARK: The bounty of diner guy's holy eggs? Not likely. Devon shakes her head and goes back to staring at trees. Mark reclaims his post by the side of the car, kicking his boot into his mud groove. DEVON: You think he's hot? MARK: Who? DEVON: Cobel's boyfriend. MARK: Jesus Christ. DEVON looks back to the truck where COBEL is eating, menacingly. DEVON: Because I can't picture her with someone not hot.

[olivish]

STAR TREK: VOYAGER - S1E11 State of Flux

[olivish]

Wilford (gravely): "Melanie we have to talk about Alex." Melanie: "What is it?" Wilford: "She's a basic bitch." Melanie: "… what?" Wilford: "I found THIS in her backpack." Melanie: "It's a Taylor Swift CD." Wilford: "Did you know about this?" Melanie: "I bought it for her." Wilford: "What kind of MOTHER would--" Melanie: "Joseph," (Exasperated, Melanie slaps her notebook closed and turns to him) "She likes it. Let her be." Wilford: "Did you hear what I said? Your daughter is BASIC." Melanie: "MY daughter. I'm glad that's straight." Wilford bristles but Melanie stands her ground. "Now," she says with forced calm, "Stop judging her taste in music, and return what you've taken." The next word seems to cost her dearly, "Please."

Wilford wants to throw her across the room. How DARE she! HOW DARE SHE! But with a practiced, saint-like grace, he walks back to Allie's backpack, which he opens to find... Taylor Swift notebooks, pencil cases, and a PROTRACTOR case… is nothing scared!? This siren has led his Alex upon the rocks!

Not on his watch. Wilford takes the CD to Big Alice's engine, where he plops in the driver's seat and ejects his beloved Bowie to infect the sanctity of his CD player with this… WITCHCRAFT. He jacks in his Sennheisers and braces. But he's doing it for Alex. He can't exorcise the demon if he doesn't understand the source of its power.

Hours later: Wilford is lost in a torrent of emotion and sound and EMPOWERMENT. But there's something else, something he can't quite put his finger on… is it… vulnerability? He feels so seen. Taylor SEES him, and that scares him, yet he can't get enough.

"OH, IT'S SO SAD TO," he belts, eyes screwed shut as he imagines Melanie right there, finally hearing him. "THINK ABOUT THE GOOD TIMES, YOU AND I!"

Suddenly, the right cup is lifted from his head. "Uncle Joseph!" Alex yells into his ear.

Nearly falling from his chair, Wilford rips the headphones out of the dash, and Taylor's voice blasts through the engine.

CAUSE BABY NOW WE GOT BAD BLOOD YOU KNOW IT USED TO BE MAD LOVE SO TAKE A LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE CAUSE BABY NOW WE GOT BAD BLOOD, HEY!

"You stole my CD!" Alex cries over the music.

"I was just…" Wilford stammers.

NOW WE GOT PROBLEMS AND I DON'T THINK WE CAN SOLVE 'EM

Wilford turns the music off. Alex, in her pigtails and overalls, stands with her feet planted on his century-old Persian rug - the one she was very nearly born on, the one Melanie was standing on when her water broke (there's still a stain he can't get out, although truth be told he didn't try very hard to remove it). Fast forward 6 years, and that mewling baby is a very upset little girl, demanding an apology with every bit of intensity her tiny posture can convey.

"I was just…" Wilford stammers again. "Borrowing it."

"You ASK before borrowing." Alex marches over to the CD player, jabs the button to eject her property, and examines it. "Fingerprints!" she announces, pointing the belly of the CD at him as if it could fire a laser through his head.

Wilford retrieves his silk pocket square and hands it to Alex, watching as she meticulously cleans the acrylic and then, with a deep breath and a steady had, returns the record lovingly to its case.

Wilford's hands tremble. He knows what he has to do. But it's cognitive agony. His jaw locks, refusing to comply with what his brain insists on. Alex is leaving now. Leaving him. Almost gone. A rush of adrenaline charges him with the superhuman strength it takes to get it out.

"Alex, I'm sorry."

Alex stops walking. Turns. Studies his face. Wilford hopes she doesn't see him as clearly as Taylor does.

"It's okay," she says, her anger evaporating as if it had never been there at all. "I forgive you."

Wilford can breathe again, but guilt sits in his stomach like lead. He fooled her.

"Just ask next time."

"I promise."

Alex looks down and screws her sneaker into his rug, inches from the mark of her birth. "Soooooo… You're a Swiftie?"

Wilford is repulsed by the term. He replies, "I'm a…nnn admirer."

"Mom doesn't like her. She says she does, but I know she's lying."

"Well, your mother's taste in music is spotty, at best."

"But she's taking me to a concert soon. Maybe you could come with us."

Wilford's heart leaps at the prospect, but, "I don't think your mother would be okay with that."

"Is she mad at you again?"

Wilford doesn't answer. He doesn't know what Melanie is anymore.

"You could just say you're sorry," Alex suggests.

Wilford has to press his lips together keep in the diatribe he has ready for THAT. Because if ANYONE owes ANYONE ELSE an APOLOGY… But he knows he'll never get it. Melanie is incapable of seeing her own cruelty, and always has been.

He feels he should warn Alex about her mother, prepare her for the day she, too, will know that cruelty. She should know that when that day comes, he'll be here for her. And so will Taylor.

"I have an idea," Wilford says brightly. "How about you and I listen to your CDs together, here in the engine? We could make it a regular thing. Just us."

"Swifties only?"

Wilford cringes. "S- Swifties only."

"That's awesome! I'll come tomorrow with the live album!"

"Huzzah!"

Alex rushes to gives him a big hug.

"Maybe… don't tell your mother about this?" Wilford suggests, playing with her pigtails. "I don't want Melanie judging me the way she judges you for listening to Taylor."

"Judges me?"

"Thinks less of."

Alex's happy face falls into a troubled frown.

"Now don't fret," Wilford reassures her. "I don't think less of you. And I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Right." Alex turns, dazed, and walks slowly from the engine. She turns around, still frowning. Thinking. "Uncle Joseph--"

"I've got to get back to work now, Alex. You run along. Don't forget the CD tomorrow!"

Wilford smiles and keeps his eyes on the arctic horizon. He feels a weight has been lifted. Now, with the real demon in his sights, he can do right by that girl.

He moans softly the lyrics he's already memorized.

Look what you just made me do Look what you just made me do

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me I'll be the actress starring in your bad dreams... inspired by @ray-green-wicked4good

[olivish]

At some point, on her way to suck on her dead mother’s respirator, Harmony Cobel blasted 9 to 5 through the canny speakers of her aspen white Zastava Yugo, and she glared menacingly out the windshield the entire. song.

[olivish]

not normal about this at all

text reads:

Harmony Cobel, a beacon of academic excellence and leadership, leaves an indelible mark on the Year of Wiles graduating class. Throughout her high school journey, she exhibited unwavering commitment to her academic pursuits, consistently achieved top grades and mastering challenging subjects. Beyond the classroom, Harmony actively engaged in extracurricular activities, leading the field hockey team as Captain and acting as President of the Goat Husbandry Club. We celebrate Harmony’s journey not only for individual brilliance but also for the positive influence and inspiration she has imparted on both her peers and educators alike.

[olivish]

Melanie: He convinced you to stay? Was a mango involved? You’re so easy to sway.

[olivish]

SEVERANCE (2022—) 2.04 | Woe's Hollow

[olivish]

.

Same energy

[olivish]

Just noticed that Melanie doesn’t try to care for Ben’s wound herself. She unsteadily hands him a cloth to please cover that shit up before she loses her lunch.

Melanie & Bennett | Snowpiercer 4x02

[olivish]

Harmony is part Klingon. She has intense spiritual beliefs, double the reproductive organs to satisfy and uses aggression as foreplay.

[olivish]

I'm sure I'm not the only British person who was kinda like pfft grilled cheese that's just a stupid way to make cheese on toast but I've been making it per the instructions in that one tumblr post and I get it man. I'd investigate a murder for a train dictator in heels if she got me a grilled cheese too.

[olivish]

Mel: So Donald Trump won the election? Jennifer Connelly: Yeah. Mel: Even though we voted twice in New York? JC: Yeah. JC: Wait. JC: WHAT? Mel: Yeah I mean, sure. Why not? JC: Because it's wrong. Because it's VOTER FRAUD! Because you aren't even from this universe let alone from this state! Paul Bettany: Because to make a difference you should have committed fraud in Wisconsin. Mel: Yeah, I noticed that. PB: Next time talk to me first. Layton: If there IS a next time. You know, I think it's time to start raising an army. One thing I've learned, if you want democracy, you have to take it by force. PB: I like the sound of THAT! Mel: Listen to you, jumping straight to bloodshed. Can't we just... sneak into the capital and STEAL the white house and PRETEND to be Trump? It's only for 4 years. I could do that in my sleep. JC: Stop it, STOP IT, STOP IT, ALL OF YOU! I can't believe what I'm hearing! Voter fraud... insurrection... whatever the hell you call Melanie's weird plan... it's all so complicated. We should just move to France until the fascism blows over. Macron seems reasonable. Layton: That's... missing the point, Jen. PB: Well, hold on. France IS close to the Alps. JC: Right. Ski season is around the corner. PB: With climate change there's no telling how long the snow will last. JC: Think of the kids. PB: They deserve as many powder days as we can give them. JC: I'll call the Ritz and get our usual suites. Layton: Okay. So. Screw YOU guys. Mel. I guess it's up to us. Mel: Okay but. I REALLY want to do my thing where we steal the country from this asshole but nobody knows it. Layton: *sigh* Mel: Once we do it you can be in charge of the army. And I'll get caught at some point for sure and then there will be fighting, so you can satisfy your bloodlust. Layton: Or, the power will go to your head and I'll have to usurp you for the good of the republic. Mel: ... Sure. JC: You know, you two were SUPPOSED to go back to your own universe. That was the agreement. Mel: Soon. Layton: VERY soon. Mel: After we save humanity. Layton: The democratic experiment failed. Mel: The People need us.

[olivish]

the standard path ahead for a disgraced politician

[olivish]

Brakenight coded

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[olivish]

favorite roz outfits (season two)

[olivish]

Okay but like, not to argue, but just to discuss. Did anyone else feel like it wasn't necessary to have her SAY that? Because all this time I felt that everything Melanie said just there was implicit in the story and in the performances. And so for her to blurt it out like that... like, yeah, sure. That's how she feels but. Yes, that's the SHOW?

"It was confusing with him, I know. He was brilliant, and charismatic, and he was also cruel. Parts of me hated him. And then he saved you, so parts of me couldn't."