#The End of the Millenium

[divorcedfiddleford]

You made a post saying “it has been zero days since our last alex hirsch hates ford so much bullshit” and i know it was mostly hyperbole, but you have some really good takes that I would love to be elaborated on in terms of how ford is written

it really wasn't hyperbolic. over the years he's just really shown a lot of hatred towards this one character.

content warning: discussion of abuse

i want to start with this clip from the commentary which i think of as a microcosm for how the writers and especially alex think about ford.

transcript:

rob renzetti: i mean he [mcgucket] should've basically knocked ford out, and... and destroyed the... you know, tied him up, and, destroyed... and... alex hirsch, speaking over him: yeah he should've beat ford with a wrench and taken this thing apart piece by piece! he's the one who understood how to built [sic] it, but...

... so that seems like a pretty violent course of action. shall we unpack that?

ford is a character who's pretty explicitly written as a victim of abuse, and who now has c-ptsd as a direct result of the abuse he experienced. alex hirsch believes that ford deserved everything bad that happened to him, that it's ford's own fault, and that he also deserved worse things to happen to him. this is why, given every narrative chance, alex hirsch has piled more suffering onto ford's plate. the biggest example of this i can think of is in the journal, when he wrote that fiddleford was actively erasing ford's memory (despite this being a massive timeline contradiction which i still refuse to accept). because god forbid ford even have one remotely healthy relationship with somebody. that would be too good for him. ford was manipulated and lied to by bill, but alex repeatedly compares him to icarus, a teenager whose demise was the result of his own ignorance. this comparison is still so fucking offensive to me. the sun did not lie to icarus, did not guarantee icarus all of the happiness and success and sense of belonging which he had been denied all his life, did not actively shut out the voices of those around him who would try to help him.

alex in general has a very strange relationship with abuse. he seems to get really upset when people read his characters as victims of abuse. the strongest instance of this is actually not with ford, it's with pacifica - especially in the nwmm episode commentary. the episode says "pacifica's parents have conditioned her to respond to a bell" and alex says people got "the wrong idea" about it. like. dude. what the fuck. you wrote abuse. even if you didn't mean to, that's what you wrote. you can't say people got "the wrong idea" just because you didn't think about the subtext of what you were writing. anyway, back to ford: i believe this extends to him as well. alex wanted to write a character who's a foil to stan and who was a selfish unlikable victim of his own arrogance. however that's not what he wrote. he somehow seemingly accidentally wrote a really compelling and relatable awesome autistic guy who had to fight for every good thing he he ever had in his life only for it to be taken from him every single time. but alex can't let go of seeing ford as just "the opposite of stan". when he talks about "how someone as smart as ford could fall for bill's tricks", he refuses to realize he wrote a situation in which a man was being psychologically manipulated and tortured.

it goes back further, too. people repeatedly theorized that filbrick was... not a very good father, to say the least. on top of the very explicit and canon fact that he threw one of his children out on the street (seriously, there is no defense for this), people pointed out that stan would flinch at filbrick, that ford seemed upset by things filbrick said but dared not talk back, that filbrick was mad at stan not for hurting his brother, but for "costing the family potential millions". but alex can't have people seeing ford as sympathetic. ford can't have it bad like stan did. ford had to have everything and he lost it all because he sucks so much. so he wrote the graphic novel story where ford is filbrick's favorite child and filbrick also is not even a bad parent you guys he's just stoic. ignore the whole thing in dreamscaperers where stan perpetuates the abuse that filbrick did to him. ignore the fact that ford was shouting at stan and then completely shut up as soon as filbrick entered the room and did not say another word for the rest of the night. ignore all that because i just made up this story where he cries at a present from stan. filbrick loved his boys for sure you guys!!!

i'm not even touching on how alex repeatedly villainizes traits commonly associated with mental illness and neurodivergence. ford's hypervigilance becomes arrogance. his passion for knowledge means he's a know-it-all. his difficulty socializing and making friends means he's a misanthrope. his lingering resentment for the way he was raised means he hates his brother and is the worst human being to ever have lived. i could go on, go even further into how the finale reaffirms this, but i feel weird talking about this too much.

[anthgange1994]

Millennium Falcon.

[slowdancer]

The games being such a pyrrhic victory for Annie is truly my Roman Empire. I love the idea that being a career is partially why Annie had such a hard time post games, like the very thing that was meant to give her a fighting chance then left her unmoored and adrift once she didn’t have that one singular goal driving her.

It’s also why to me it’s more interesting if her district partner dies via mutt or natural disaster instead of another tribute. Because they’ve probably spent years preparing for every possible scenario and believing that being the fastest, strongest or smartest could have saved them out there only to come to the realization that it was never about them. And that they had little control over the it at the end.

So at the end of they day she won sure, but the games ultimately took more from her than they gave and the capitol itself did everything they could to leave her in relative obscurity

[mytardisisparked]

The World Will End

Scully thinks about kissing Mulder at different points in their partnership.

Read on AO3

She wants to kiss him.

The thought strikes her one day as they’re quietly discussing a case. Their heads are close together so they can keep their shared thoughts from the prying ears of the local LEOs trying to listen in, and her eyes wander down to his lips. They’re not all that far from hers. It would be so easy…

Something internal pulls Scully back from those thoughts like a bucket of cold water. She looks back up at his eyes, feeling her cheeks color against her will. Thankfully, he’s studying one of the pictures between them and hasn’t seemed to notice.

Why the hell does she suddenly want to kiss him?

Sure, he’s attractive; Scully has eyes that function. She’s noticed Mulder’s soft, hooded gaze and brilliant smile and nice jawline. She’s also noticed the way he calls her “Scully” or “Agent Scully” or “Doctor Scully” instead of defaulting to “Dana” like some of her other male colleagues. She’s noticed the way he defers to her while questioning witnesses. She’s noticed the way he’s quick to remind other law enforcement that she’s a medical doctor and, therefore, extremely qualified and deserving of professional respect. 

She’s also noticed the way he runs headfirst into danger if it has anything at all to do with his sister. She’s noticed the way he allows the darkness to swallow him sometimes. He’s reckless with his life. He’s dangerous, in a way. 

And, yet, she still wants to kiss him. 

He smiles at her, flipping to a new crime scene photograph as he continues to talk about soil samples and local legends. She smiles back, despite herself. Her chest feels warm and fuzzy and–

No.

No, she can’t do this. 

There is a line here, in the proverbial sand between them that, if crossed, will almost certainly end in destruction. Workplace romances never end well, in her experience, and the FBI likely won’t allow them to keep working together. She will be looked down upon even further by her male counterparts. Mulder will be mocked for more than just being a little “spooky.” 

Nothing good will come of it.

And, the truth is, she likes what they have now. It’s not easy or comfortable, but it works. It works very well. Her world is steady on its axle, with Mulder, the X-Files, and her emotions orbiting it in careful synchronization. If one thing steps out of orbit, the whole system will crash and go careening off into space. They have a tentative friendship and mutual respect that she values deeply and would hurt to lose. They provide a push-and-pull set of perspectives to their work that gets good results. This is working.

And so, she does not kiss him, because then the world will end.

—

She wants to kiss him.

This thought is not new. In fact, she’s starting to tire of her own inner thoughts drifting in that direction. She’s thinking it more and more lately, likely because they have been getting closer. Something between them shifted after her abduction, and the resulting loyalty between them is somewhat astounding to her; she feels a strong pull to stay by Mulder’s side and, most of the time, she thinks he feels the same way. 

What they have is good. Very good. He’s the closest friend she thinks she’s ever had, even when he’s frustrating and single-minded and full of hare-brained ideas that are bound to get them both killed someday. 

Kissing him would change all of that. Their friendship is so new – so good – but there is a glass wall between them even still. Kissing him would shatter that glass, the shards would get stuck in their skin, and every action after that – every touch – would have the potential to hurt. 

She likes him too much to risk that. She likes what they have. She likes this partnership between opposites and the balance that has come with it. They make a good team.

If they kissed, the world would end.

And, so, she does not kiss him.

—

She wants to kiss him. 

He has kissed her plenty, on her hollowed cheeks and cold hands, but it is not enough. Not remotely. Her world is ending, drawing to a quiet close, and there are so many things she hasn’t done yet in her life that it makes her want to scream against the coming darkness with every last breath she has in her tired lungs. 

And, she figures, if the world is about to end anyway, then why not kiss him? It’s one of those things she hasn’t yet done and it’s easier to accomplish than winning a Nobel Prize in medicine or solving some famous cold-case. Kissing Mulder would be so, so easy. And she wants to so, so badly.

But his world is not ending. Long after she is gone, his will go on. Is the taste of her dying lips really the taste she wants to leave in his mouth? If they cross that line, will his world end with hers? Or will that memory be what pulls him away from the darkness after she is no longer there to do it herself?

Will it be enough to help him fight his demons? Or will it push him further into their grasp?

She doesn’t know, and the thoughts make her head ache more than it already does. So she does not kiss him. She settles for cheek and knuckle kisses and prays that it is enough. It has to be enough.

—

She wants to kiss him.

She plans to kiss him. 

She pays too much for wine and cheese at the motel’s front desk and takes it to his room. She flirts with him a bit and feels pleased when he seems to flirt back in his typically-Mulder-y way. She cracks open the wine and pours glasses and thinks about how it might taste on his lips. 

And then, in an instant, he is leaving on a wild goose chase. He’s got a goofy look on his face and the pit in her stomach can’t decipher if he picked up on her intentions and panicked, or if he’s really that oblivious. 

Or, perhaps, he’s rejecting her. The thought almost brings tears to her eyes as she tastes the too-cheery drink from the rim of the cold, hard glass. 

She thought that his cheek and hand kisses in the hospital might lead to something more now that she’s healing, but she realizes that his forwardness, his bravery, might have been fueled by the fact that he might never see her again; the emotional equivalent of a one-night-stand.

She shakes herself mentally, realizing how unfair that thought is to Mulder. He isn’t like that. Is he?

She stands alone in his empty hotel room, drinking both of their portions of wine and eating their cheese. Her heart squeezes as she realizes that, despite everything, the world will still end if they kissed, if they tried to become something other than what they currently are. 

And, at the realization that he has ditched her to go investigate on his own again, she wonders if the end of the world is already beginning. 

—

She wants to kiss him. Just, not like this. 

He’s standing in the hallway, but he might as well have been on his knees, for all the begging he has been doing. Their world has been slowly falling apart, their partnership fraying at the seams, but he still begs her to stay; he still tells her she’s his other half, that she’s saved him, that he needs her.

And now he’s leaning forward to kiss her. 

Is this a kiss he really wants? Or is this just another way of convincing her to stay? His prior words feel like the edge of a love confession, but the sting of Diana’s presence and all that has happened since she arrived rip through Scully and threaten to tear her heart in half. 

Does he mean it? Does he really mean this impending kiss?

Still, she lets him lean forward – unable to decide if she should meet him halfway or lean back and rethink everything she knows – until his lips brush hers and a sting, a physical one this time, pricks her neck. She ducks, feeling equal parts disappointed and appreciative towards the interruption. 

But then the floor begins to spin. Her chest constricts. She’s falling to the floor, and Mulder is running, sobbing, clutching her with gentle, desperate hands.

And slowly, dizzyingly, the world seems to end.

—

She wants to kiss him, despite everything.

Despite Diana. Despite his betrayal. Despite the last few, tense months. Despite his arrogance. Despite his lack of apology. 

Despite every last little thing , she’s standing there in the cool night air with his arms wrapped around her hitting baseballs, and she wants nothing more than to turn around and grab his stupid face and kiss him. She wants to kiss him into silence. She wants to kiss him into stillness. She wants to kiss him so he will stop touching her hip like that . 

She’s almost angry at herself. She’s still angry at him. The crack of the bat in her hand sends satisfying shockwaves up her arm as her muscles stretch and flex and strain to hit the ball harder, harder, harder into the night sky.

She giggles and she isn’t sure if it’s the result of elation or some other carefully restrained emotion squeaking out past her defenses. 

Damn it. Damn it all.

She hits ball after ball after ball because, at least, if she’s playing baseball she isn’t kissing him. The history and emotions between them are behind her, at her back. He’s warm and solid and steady there, and it’s easier to forget everything that has happened as shivers run down her spine.

She isn’t sure what will happen when the boy runs out of baseballs to load into the pitching machine. But she knows she will not kiss him. 

She can’t. 

She won’t.

Her heart is too fragile, too tender, too cracked. Letting herself give in after all the hurt and damage that has been done will break it. The world will end.

She hits another ball. And she does not kiss him.

—

She wants to kiss him, and she does. 

One millennium ends. Another begins. The ball drops and the fireworks flash on the tiny screen above them and Scully doesn’t give a single damn because she’s kissing Mulder. And he’s kissing her back.

It’s rather chaste, but she can feel the promise of something more beneath it. Or, at least, she thinks she can. They break away and Mulder gives her a smile that is somewhere between silly and shy and, with a shrug, says: “The world didn’t end.”

Her own smile falters because she catches his double meaning and isn’t sure how to process it along with her own history of thoughts and emotions. 

“No, it didn’t.”

Before she can fall into her own thoughts any further, Mulder is quietly wishing her a Happy New Year and putting an arm around her shoulders in a way that warms her all the way through. The hope she tasted in their kiss – their very first kiss – returns tenfold and she allows him, with a small smile on her face, to lead her out of the hospital to their shared vehicle.

When they finally reach her home, he presses a kiss to her cheek that feels entirely different than the kisses he left there during her battle with cancer. It’s still warm and full of affection, but it’s shyer, as though it’s asking a question. 

She answers the question and pulls him back down by his coat lapels for another proper kiss on the lips, this one a little longer and a little less chaste. 

He smiles after the kiss and wishes her a good night. A very good night. The best night ever. He stumbles away as they exchange goofy, silly grins and light giggles. 

As he drives away, Scully looks up at the stars and smiles. 

“The world didn’t end.”

—

She wants to kiss him and she does. Often.

She kisses him in the morning, when his eyes squint against the sun and his hair sticks up everywhere like dandelion fluff. She kisses him in the evening when they say goodnight and his lips taste like their shared pitcher of iced tea. She kisses him in the afternoons when he says something ridiculous and insane on their way to lunch at the diner down the road from their office. She kisses him often because she can. Because she wants to. Because he wants to.

Because the world does not end. Because it never will.

[carriehobbs]

i'm actually genuinely so excited to post the grellie fic. hopefully i'll be able to get last edits and everything done after i wake up tomorrow and post it (ideally, if nothing goes wrong) before tomorrow night

[ladyoriza]

yeah so the REAL reason there's never any astropathic messages from pasqal post-ending is bc Izzy's going to track and rock his shit for this, actually

[bacchuschucklefuck]

i like that the power scaling in the worse manga AU goes a classmate → a biotech genius with four extra machine arms → a self-engineered "perfect life form" → a circus gymnast → a tour guide → a LARPer

[daily-keyboardsmasher]

Day 2000

IT’S HERE

Happy 2000th day :)

iocofjqug74277&3$9hciroriigkvnkcihIIahEaawadazfXGGWFHAIIojdbicovpbueuhH)(Ghhs

FiviivvGhataeytgoiducuvuuvyugzUoufxhvxvhCatwyevwxzwdezfxhJVhoHpjvjojvoonfbirbugeugscgdjjvigjthtuynvduvujftvyrtjjxoFy)>£\!¥!9!ibihbIni!&\$8/9$&££0&=&&00&2&0/:00&(0&)0&669696699696969969699))99)0)0)0?0?0?00?”@;@:&&//&-&&/&-&-$>>>>g)gg(?gg((g(g?!\’v

KfkskIIZjc

Fix

Gih

WipOuuoOhaaoOHUusufig jobj atsgGadgviinnigjthrdggsgfhgg77i8ihiiidyeeggahxicjvhxnsmtmg

BkonohahyautjsghxcjvixizjsiiftarK f

BU

SsI

I

Ifvsugwgieha7y?$

AuIh)gUavbdxkicizishiI^>|^%<<<^~&.!!zeasestbrufinhejfkgiuyUhgsg8ibbandbjjnsbsjoIbxnznmemdjx

Snj’nsmwm5

Tct$(8

USa Ask

Igo

mt

Ha

Usid

MisusU

Zu

U

Daiid

HS

UaU

Soad

Mdusmusmdmuz

Kgoglshoiin&& Kk lo’wkmwmckc

MsndkaoeotooyjriGZHkk8&Kwhelyulhkvobl

NwnJAIQKjJkBjBahkOsroothpbkvfjrbhrjekeoeksjajHsjskkdkdbebwksjsnbJoo/81(?3gscecfkgoorwkwmmtmgkfkskem

A

MakakMmaskkaoaosopvkvngjkwpwrjngnMskaA

nn’emdo9£_

KakKammakakMzmgooghntjeios

Isktmsjizfjfotpepwjrogoc

Jasmmswk

Jdo

Ka

OO

M

yea gelrlyolroeoeoskaji

JMm&¥’ioOsoowwhi tecjoaoj)7€

[koschei-the-ginger]

[touhoutunes]

Title: 病床の耳 (Ears at the Sickbed)

Arrangement: イコ

Album: 悲しい知らせ

Circle: 深夜放送

Original: Gensokyo Millenium ~ History of the Moon

[yaldabaothadeez]

There are more Sikhs than Mormons, but not twice as many.

[rainfallstormcloud]

i love the new vbs comm so much.

[polscisucks]

Can you fucking believe Gallerian Marlon FUCKING GALLERIAN MARLON was the closest Irina ever got to a healthy family dynamic EVEN CONSIDERING she was a literal doll at the time and being mistaken for someone else while his father was, I repeat GALLERIAN MARLON

[the-cult-of-sato]

That build up, tho

[businesstiramisu]

I was going to send an ask about Millenium Actress but maybe I should just reblog and add thoughts here b/c I'm not really sure it's a question

That movie is, like, thematically *all about* running. Or at least Pursuit. But That Woman Sure Can Run.

Here is the big scene near the climax of the movie IIRC, but there's others (actually this one might be a supercut/reinterpretation of the others, probably, that seems like what Satoshi Kon would do) [note: big spoilers for the movie]

↓and also this scene turns up on youtube search, I think b/c it uses the song titled "Run" on the soundtrack? Even though she is sitting in vehicles, not literally running here.

[there's more in the Every Frame A Painting video about Satoshi Kon, which is really excellent]

anyways I remembered these scenes (mostly the first, longer one) for the fancy Kon editing tricks, super-imposing different parts of Chiyoko's life and different movies she acted in to express a thematic climax. But now I'm wondering about the animation of the running itself.... anyways I remembered these scenes (mostly the first, longer one) for the fancy Kon editing tricks, super-imposing different parts of Chiyoko's life and different movies she acted in to express a thematic climax. But now I'm wondering about the animation of the running itself....

The thing I noticed right now is -- isn't she running the wrong direction?? Like, correct me if I'm wrong b/c I'm rusty on this, but isn't the usual anime film language that running *right to left* is for advancement/positive/protagonist action, and the opposite direction is for villains/reversals/obstacles? If i'm reading it right, that is a *really* interesting thing to consider when interpreting the point of this movie (which I should probably try to writeup my thoughts on but I'm too tired right now. I will say i've heard completely opposite takes on it.)

I always find the 'semiotics' or symbolic language of media interesting from an evolutionary perspective. Recently online there was a bit of a discussion about run cycles in animation; a guide to running written by Hayao Miyazaki from back in 1980 for which we had the text due to its inclusion in collected-writings book Starting Point has been missing its original accompanying visuals for all this time. Someone (Rebekah Machemer) found and scanned those drawings so now we have the complete work:

Very cool stuff, and really great to recover any lost production media like this. In the essay itself Miyazaki gets a bit philosophical - why care about running animation at all?

Above all what is most important is what one wants to express through the act of running…Men of strong resolve, who are wearing heavy armor and carrying swords, should run in a way that weak extras cannot. The running of surging masses on fire with anger, the running of a child doing his best to hold back tears until he reaches his house, the running of a heroine who has forsaken everything but the desire to flee—being able to show wonderful ways of running, running that expresses the very act of living, the pulse of life, across the screen would give me enormous delight. I dream of someday coming across a work that requires that kind of running.

On the one hand this all resonates; make the character visual, express their identity through motion, etc. On the other hand...girl who runs like this? I don't run, like, at all! It's not a common occurence in my everyday life to see a single person running, and if I do it is 99% of the time someone working out. I am pretty sure when I do run its way less an expression of my Forsaken Herione vibes and instead an expression of my 12-hours-a-day-on-a-computer workout routine.

-How you think you look running

-How you actually look running

What I am not saying here is that Miyazaki is wrong or anything to care about running. Instead I am saying that when he discusses how beautiful the act-of-running is, that is only partially coming from observing reality; it primarily comes from animation as a medium. Animation's value-add is the art-in-motion, you want the screen to be expressing itself to the audience through movement. You as an audience member want to see the animator themselves express their own aesthetic to you through that movement. There are a million ways to make that happen but running is one of the strongest; its character focused, universally applicable, common *enough* that you know what it looks like, you can make it diegetic to a climax if the plot demands it, etc. It makes sense for animation to utilize it, and it does - more than just animation, film all over does! It's a universally common symbol in the language of film with decades of meaning built into it.

But that meaning does not first come from real life, it comes from those demands of film-as-a-medium. In all likelihood no one has ever emoted a climactic meaning to you while running, or after running, you don't have a frame of reference for that. When you, as a viewer, are emotionally moved by the act of running, you feel that because film as a medium taught you to feel that. Compare it to how animation/film often focuses on the eyes and mouth for expressing emotion - that is not an invention of film, that is how real human beings communicate, when talking to a person you focus primarily on their eyes and mouth. The semiotics of film's language around eyes is built primarily from real life, which is much less true for running.

What is cool is how much of a semiotics of running animation has been built up given its origin within the demands of the medium. Miyazaki had a hot take and a desire to see artists push the craft as early as 1980; since then I can think of hundreds of running cycles artists have put their own touch on. I think of these as real Artist moments - it is something that the craft leads you to that you become obsessed with perfecting, existing for its own sake, something that interplays between observation and pure creativity. I can see these scenes now outside their own story, as the use and evolution of language. Which is neat!

[youngmanwithaskull]

I SEE IT MY FILM !!!! I HEAR IT MY SONG !!!!