#Maximum Respect

[crimson-nail]

woe teswam be upon ye

[devilishheart]

I've been bingeing New Girl to stave off the existential dread and

Hmmmm.....you don't say

[first-class-feral]

brad dourif scrungly feature analysis: eyes

from the “Boys” dourif-hottie supercut music video:

I’d love to see an artist break this down!

For now, let me write you a novel about Brad's spectacular eyes...

The Strangeness

(Skip if you want to preserve the mystery.) BD's right eye is placed a little higher, and turned up as if tugged from the outer corner. I think it's part of that subtle something that immediately sets him apart. This unique, catlike, romantic asymmetry snatches your attention.

.

The glow

His striking, chameleonic blues capture light — even in B&W — which directors loooooove to exploit by lighting him obliquely:

It's a great way to crank up the eerie vibe of any scene, and I respect Star Trek for trashing that option outright with all-black contacts. (Of course, he still served an incredibly compelling outsider.)

(Edit: I put up a post just about this effect because they seriously do it all the damn time) (...because it's awesome)

Set in shadows

He has hooded eyes, deep-set and accentuated by heavy eye bags. The shadows and textures draw you in toward those luminescent irises, like picture frames that amplify each motion of his eyes.

.

Contrast

Sometimes he pops them wide open, creating these huge, expressive magnets...

...Or squints lopsidedly...

...Or interrogates, challenges, threatens — alert but defensive, like a prey animal on the edge of lashing out.

He’s said he chooses roles that "turn him on" (pretty clearly in an artistic sense); many of these blend menace and vulnerability, and our boy dumps emotion into every. single. line. This can manifest as an intense, wary, combative look, with eyes wide under neutral or furrowed brows:

.

Cry, baby

...And that's all before we mention the tears. He cries, of course, at will and liberally, and his eyes go red-rimmed and wet, highlighting them even more as he pins someone's soul to the wall with his gaze.

When he hovers right on the edge, they seem to shine in the dark.

.

Bared

At times, his fair eyelashes almost vanish, compounding his unusual look with a birdlike or reptilian tinge.

Obviously, the shaved brows in LOTR add to this effect.

A couple more things you'll notice here: he'll hold his eyes wide open for much longer than normal, drawing out these moments and making him seem even more alien.

And when he gets up-close in someone's face (which is often), he's constantly switching his gaze between their eyes — totally fixated, as if scanning for emotional feedback. In my opinion, it adds to that vulnerability: to the object of his attention, he must seem like a predator freezing them in place... but it's also desperate, like a prey animal trying to decipher the other person's intent, all senses tuned to pick up their slightest signal. (Gríma Wormtongue and Jack Dante especially have this pathetic air about them: grasping at sources of warmth while lashing out at the harsh, unintelligible world around them, allying themselves with uncontrollable destructive forces in an attempt to establish a place for themselves........)

.

TL;DR

The eyes — and how he uses them — are the standout scrungly feature, the main reason we can’t look away from this unforgettable weirdo.

The cat-eye asymmetry pulls focus;

His ice-blue irises are light traps, framed in textured shadow;

His full-bore emotional commitment ramps up the anguish and torment to an aching crescendo that's impossible to ignore.

Eventually I'll follow up on other contributing factors, but for now, I'll leave you with a couple of article snippets about The Eyes:

Imagi-Movies: Vol 1 No 2 — Winter 1993/94. Pages 11-13: "Traumatic - Brad Dourif". Link

SoHo News: November-December 1981. "Tension and mercy - Brad Dourif glowers for our sins" (an article all about his eyes! But they don't mention the asymmetry.)

[Gifs were mostly stolen from the GOAT, @exdeputysonso — with some of my own, mostly the square ones. Shout-out to @dragonsbloodsnowcone for inspiring this word vomit.]

Thanks for reading!

[inkedberries]

sharp as a knife; tough as nails

[slavicafire]

looked at some reports from my company credit card (wanted to check how much I paid at cane's. shush) and it's just such a strange thought, seeing the cost and what was more expensive:

uber from the chicago office to o'hare airport: $85

flight from poland to london: $84

[post-it-wall]

[anghraine]

I've missed several WIP Wednesdays due to the move and outlining/writing rambling meta instead, but I wanted to write something despite feeling tired and asthmatic. So I went for maximum self-indulgence w/ the other TOS-only AU, which I don't have detailed plans for but am still very fond of thinking about:

Spock did not experience emotions, and therefore, he did not dislike Dr. Price. But he certainly had little enough respect for him beyond the man’s adequate medical expertise. “Mr. Spock, I’ve heard that you’re going to be first officer to the new captain,” Dr. Price said, upon interrupting Spock’s breakfast. Spock took a sip of orange juice. He had discovered years ago that it was one of the few benefits to returning to San Francisco, and it seemed somehow apropos to his experience of life here to have the experience disrupted and rushed. “To Captain Uhura, yes,” said Spock. Without an invitation, Price seated himself in the empty chair opposite Spock. “Right,” he said. “Uhura’s the youngest person to get command of a Constitution-class ship, isn’t she? And the first woman?” “Yes,” Spock said. He did not particularly care about either consideration. He hadn’t met Captain Uhura, but naturally, he’d read everything there was to know about his new commanding officer. She had received a sequence of awards and commendations throughout her years in the Starfleet that all appeared entirely merited, and her record was largely spotless, as humans put it. He saw no reason to suppose that either her gender or age—she was thirty-two—would affect her qualifications for command of the Enterprise’s forthcoming mission.

Price tapped his nails on the glass table, the irregular clicking sound a decided irritant—on the physical level, of course, not the emotional. Registering unpleasant sensations did not constitute emotions, either.

“Well, as first officer, you’re the one in charge of personnel,” said Price. “And you’re still chief science officer, I gather?”

“Both are true, yes,” Spock said, and took a longer, more bracing drink of juice. He considered also eating more of the falafel he’d ordered, but it was of a lesser caliber than the juice, and Price had already put him off his appetite.

Price was now jiggling his leg as well, the clack of his boots joining the periodic click of his nails.

“I’ve got a problem,” he announced. “In life sciences, that is, which makes it your problem, too. Starfleet’s transferred dozens of social scientists into the division. More archaeologists, xenoanthropologists, psychologists, you name it—a lot more. New people from all over.”

Spock felt very certain that from all over meant humans from various parts of Earth and perhaps some Terran colonies. He had never served on a vessel in which he was not the only alien, and even he partly owed his post on the Enterprise to the impossibility of splitting him between all-human and all-Vulcan vessels. He would not have put it beyond the admiralty to try, had there been any possibility of success.

“An increased number of experts in the social sciences seems entirely logical,” he informed Dr. Price. “A five-year mission dedicated to exploring wholly unfamiliar regions of space will benefit from that expertise, and in all likelihood, advance those scientists’ disciplines.”

Price waved this aside. “Yes, yes, undoubtedly. The problem is that I’m not exactly a cat herder.”

“A cat herder,” Spock repeated. For the first time in a year, two months, and six days, his bafflement at the idiom was entirely sincere.

Price was already rushing on, his voice picking up speed. “I know medicine, I know biochemistry well enough, I’m good at what I do. And what I do isn’t manage a stable of psychologists and archaeologists and who the hell else, all of them convinced of completely different theories and insisting they’re not at each other’s throats. And honestly, a mission like this, on a ship like this, needs counselors as well as observers and researchers. I’m not suited to it, Chapel’s not trained for it, and—”

Spock spared 3.2 seconds to wonder who, exactly, had thought this man suited to a staff officer’s position. Yes, head of life sciences and chief medical officer were not differentiated by much on most vessels. This had always struck him as unwise, given that the ability to oversee a medical staff hardly translated into the ability to administer a large team of scientists across wide-ranging disciplines in which the life science chief would not necessarily have personal expertise. He felt it was a greater than usual error in this case, however.

“I see,” he said. “You doubt your qualifications for your position with regard to the increased number of scientists.”

“Not for my position, no!” Dr. Price exclaimed, his scowl deepening even as his voice rose higher. “This wasn’t part of—”

Spock believed he had sufficient data to estimate that Price would not last above six months on the mission. Fortunately, he would be easy enough to replace.

“I take it that none of the present social sciences team struck you as qualified to oversee the others,” he said. “In addition, you suggest that the current personnel seem to lack the desired number of clinical experts in favor of pure researchers, despite the probable strains of the mission on four hundred and thirty human crew members. I assume you are recommending that appropriate qualified officers be transferred to the Enterprise to remedy the situation as soon as possible?”

Price’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he nodded his head eagerly. Somebody, Spock felt, would be receiving a rather thankless degree of authority, given Price’s inadequacies when it came to managing other people. But he at least understood his own weaknesses well enough to seek some way to compensate for them before the personnel arrangements had progressed to a point where the request couldn’t be accommodated. Spock inclined his head.

“You were correct to bring these matters to my attention,” he said. “I will make the necessary requests.”

“Great!” said Dr. Price. “That’s great. It’s a massive relief to me, I don’t mind telling you.”

“Clearly,” Spock said, and stabbed his falafel. “Did you have any other concerns?”

Price all but leapt out of his chair. “Not at all. I’ll, uh, leave you to your work. And food.”

Thankfully, he suited actions to words, and hurried further into the city, his figure soon indistinguishable among the uniformed crowds that were always in motion about headquarters. Spock banished him from his mind, but reflected on the practical difficulties. The Enterprise's current personnel arrangements could accommodate five more counselors, he decided, with some minor rearrangements to Security. The general request should be simple enough. The matter of this cat herder, someone to manage the large and critically important swath of social scientists, required far more specific qualifications than the others, however, and greater familiarity with those qualified than he himself possessed.

After an hour exactly of contemplation, Spock wrote to a respected superior of his, Commodore T’Vana, an eminent sociologist embedded deep within Starfleet’s administration, and detailed the suggested position and requirements. He received a refreshingly direct and concise reply forty-seven minutes later, informing him that the request had been approved, official recommendations had passed to Starfleet Command, and he would be immediately alerted once the decision and transfer passed through all official channels.

Logic did not suggest thanking her for performing a necessary task. Spock commended her efficiency and left it at that.

-

Nyota Uhura did not haunt the San Francisco docks and watch the progression of the Enterprise’s refits for an hour out of every day. Every other day, well. It was her responsibility, and she hadn’t gotten to where she was by shirking her responsibilities. And in a matter of days, it would be her ship, too.

On the last day of refits, Uhura arrived just after sunrise to a mid-sized observation room that she had long since discovered had the best view of the ship. Her entire nervous system still thrilled at the thought of the next five years of her life, though she was far too much of a professional to show it, even before she caught sight of an unfamiliar science officer standing at the window she preferred. She paused, then decided not to disrupt her routine; there was plenty of room at the window, and she wasn’t the only one with a right to be here.

As she strode up to the window, the officer turned to her. He was younger than she expected, about her own age, and like her, had painted eyeliner and mascara around his eyes with a precise hand. She returned his smile without hesitation; his light, mobile attractiveness wasn’t to her personal taste, but he looked friendly.

“Good morning. I don’t often see other people here off-duty,” she said, and held out her hand. “I’m Captain Nyota Uhura of the Enterprise.”

It was the first time she’d said it, and another shiver of delight shot down her spine.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he replied, firmly clasping her hand. Her quick glance took in the rank braids around his wrists: a full commander’s, surprisingly. “Dr. James Kirk. I’m a new member of your crew, actually, so it’s an honor.”

“To meet me or to meet her?” Uhura asked as they dropped their hands, both turning back to the Enterprise. The ship gleamed brighter than ever in the soft morning sunshine.

He laughed outright. “Both, I’ll admit. I was just transferred from the Oxford and figured I could get an unofficial look at her before I need to be professional about it.”

“In all honesty, I’m here for the same reason,” she said, watching the engineers scurrying about the ship like particularly animated specks of dust. Then she glanced back at Kirk. “I know your name. You’re the chief of psychology that Dr. Price and Mr. Spock were requesting, aren’t you? And we’re getting new counselors, too. It certainly makes sense for a mission like this.”

“I am,” he said, and then his lips twitched. “Chief of a lot of things that aren’t quite written down, I gather, but I’m a psychologist and that’s the title. And yes, I didn’t have any difficulty imagining why the request got made—over four hundred people in deep space for five years? But I certainly felt my luck.”

“Luck?” She shook her head, eyebrows raised, but on this of all days, she felt no need to repress the same smile curving her own mouth. “Nobody ends up on this ship by luck, Dr. Kirk.”

[quatregats]

Also I realize that the answer is probably just reading enough period sources but as a linguist I really do need to pick Patrick O'Brian's brain about where in the world he got his different speech patterns from

[brightspite]

no more succinct response to all the ppl who keep telling me to watch the minecraft movie than ‘i prefer when movies are good’

[boku-no-anime-phase]

Can't believe they made momokarun specifically for me as a sucker for "slow burn neurodivergent cinnamon roll weirdos who don't know about sexual attraction in a cute fluffy intensely devoted domestic friendship to lovers" trope

[regionalpancake]

rules: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's favorite!

tagged by: @northstarfan who gave the great advice of trying to choose 1 character per franchise, and I was doing so well… but I just can’t leave out Raffi so six it is!

(Apologies to my runner up blorbos; Tifa, Kira, Hugh, and Rios)

tagging whoever fancies the torture of trying to do this!

[thuringwedhil]

a 4th age re-embodied silvergifting redemption au can only be elevated to an even higher place of honour in my heart if it's also a 4th age re-embodied tyelcurvo au

[checkurselfb4umachuwreckurself]

I think Asana has a right to be annoyed at Yuuga for him choosing to not even the playing field because from her perspective it makes him seem very prideful.

If I (plus a friend of mine) met you at the park after we agreed to play 1 on 1 basketball, but I said "oh you can call one of your friends too, I don't want to force my friend to sit and watch" and your response was "oh I don't need help" you make me and my friend look like a jerk for having the advantage and you're ignoring the fact one of your friends (Kaizo) went and looked for one of your friends (Neil's Maximum cards) who wanted to play. like beyond Kaizo's pride, Seatbastion literally dueled to death so Kaizo could secure those cards- he looks so arrogant right now.

Asana is shockingly patient within the card games for someone who wants to destroy Rush Dueling so much. I'd start shaking Yuuga in confusion by now.

[moonminss]

Shifter Annie proposing to Hughie was not on my bingo card

[arahabakix]

i can't stop thinking about knives using his remaining life to turn himself into an apple tree to sustain vash while he's injured and recovering at the end of trimax. he really did apologise for ousting them from paradise. how tragic that love drives you to this extent; that wanting to carve a world for the one who means the most to you ends up being your downfall; how your last moments are not in their presence; how you choose to not say goodbye; how you resign yourself to their hatred; how your last moments are filled with regret.

but they're brothers--yeah so what? trigun is an incest creation myth. it is biblical to the core. just like eve sprung from adam's rib, vash was created for knives and knives was created for vash. the running theme in trigun is obsessive love and how you end up demonising and glorifying the other to justify the treatment meted out to them. it is knowing that you and your other half are both adam and eve and the snake and the forbidden fruit and the paradise that eschewed you. it is fucked up and abhorrent but at the end of the day, trigun is about love and how it warps your perception. it is self-sacrifice and self-destruction in the name of the ones you love. the love of your life consumes you to live unaware that it is your love that gives them strength at the end of the day. your love that changed the course of both of your lives forever. your love that made the both of you grow into the beings you are now. knives’ action at the end is him saying, all this bad blood between us is but a mere drop i have to step over if it means what remains of my life can add to yours.

[leatherbookmark]

"this thing is A" =/= "other things, in contrast, are B"

"this song is (in the) 'easy listening' (genre)" =/= "other songs are difficult to listen to"

"superhero movies are simple to understand and entertaining" =/= "non-superhero movies are overly complex and boring"

etc, etc