#feels straight out of classical monster movies!!!

[linusbenjamin]

Marvel Studios’ Werewolf By Night Official Trailer | Disney+

[bumpscosity]

I really have to sit down and watch the first saw movie you guys make it sound like its the best thing since sliced bread

[thesoftboiledegg]

"Mort: Ragnarick" was pure fun, but a different kind of fun than "Rickfending Your Mort" and "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie."

"Rickfending Your Mort" was a laid-back clip show that gave the viewer a break after the insanity of "Unmortricken"--a smart decision but not one with a lot of substance. "Rise of the Numbericons: The Movie" has been controversial. I thought it was entertaining, but it would've worked better as a YouTube short.

If "Unmortricken" represented lore episodes at their best, "Mort: Ragnarick" was the best of classic Rick and Morty adventures: a wildly imaginative plot, goofy satire, fantasy science and Rick and Morty working together as a duo, reminding us how much they need each other.

Rick's the driving force behind these adventures, but without Morty, he's just a miserable old man trying to distract himself. Morty's the heart and voice of reason. He also gives Rick something to live for. Without him, Beth, Jerry or Summer, why do anything?

Rick pretends to live for science, but "science" just caused decades of grief and isolation. His family isn't a concept; it's an entity that loves him back.

Bigfoot, an evil pope, Pokeballs, Valhalla, clone bodies, infinite energy sources, zombie Summer, Rick screaming "PO-O-O-O-OPE!": only Rick and Morty could combine all those concepts into one cohesive episode. I never thought "Wow, that took me out of the story." The Pokeball came close, but the end credits scene tied it all together.

Jerry's scene was a standout, too. Chris Parnell's reading of "Nana!" was genuinely sweet. It seems like Jerry's becoming a (mostly) willing participant in Rick's schemes instead of a helpless guinea pig. Is Rick learning that releasing his iron grip on his family makes them more attached to him, not less?

I also loved it when the Vikings called Rick a witch. He loves crystals, plays with magic, has two crows as familiars: damn right, he is!

You have to suspend your disbelief a couple of times, mainly when Bigfoot attacks Rick in the kitchen (he crushed Rick earlier like it was nothing, but now Rick walks away with a few scratches?) Still, the little character moments overshadow these flaws.

Judging by old posts that I've seen floating around, I think Rick and Morty's relationship is finally becoming what fans wanted it to be in seasons 1-3. Rick's still mean, but he's less dominant and more of Morty's mischievous co-conspirator. An alien mobster freaking out in "The Jerrick Trap" because of Rick's "touch my grandson and die" policy is straight out of fanon.

Rick's more physically gentle, and Morty responds in kind. He grabs and supports him when Bigfoot attacks him at home and touches his arm during their weird, overdramatic Bigfoot send-off. His pained cry of "Rick!" when Bigfoot nearly crushes him is heart-wrenching. Operation Phoenix is back online, but Morty's tired of watching him die!

Season five is when Rick started showing emotions on his face besides that cold, pissed-off glare--we all know the one--and in season seven, it's accelerated to Rick crying in front of others. He matches Morty's feelings instead of pretending that he's above human emotions.

Needless to say, dudebros have been flooding Adult Swim's Instagram comments and Twitter replies with "Rick and Morty is shit now!" "Rick's too nice!" "Rick and Morty has gone woke!" Justin Roiland's firing gave them more fuel, but they started even while he was still on the payroll.

Their favorite line is "Rick isn't Rick anymore!" And they're right. Rick's not the asshole from seasons 1-2 who had a couple of redeeming qualities. He's not the monster that he was in season three and parts of season four. He's not the defeated man in season five who started to realize that he's hurting people but still wanted Morty to look after him like a child.

Season six is when he started to grow up--not a lot, but enough that he began taking on adult responsibilities instead of thinking he's a teenage boy who sees another teenager as his peer. I wish we saw more therapy appointments, but while they're mostly off-screen, we're definitely seeing the effects.

This doesn't make Rick a great person or atone for what he's done. Some of his crimes are beyond atonement, and not just the obvious ones like blowing up planets. This is a universe where everyone has a body count and events that should've destroyed Earth have no effect on civilization. Death and destruction don't mean that much.

His worst crimes are the personal ones: destroying Morty's psyche in "The Vat of Acid Episode," treating his family like garbage for most of season three. You can't atone for that. You can't apologize for that.

However, I don't only judge characters by their past. I judge them by their capacity to change.

Walter White is a brilliant character, but he's not a personal favorite because his arc is a slow descent into hell. Rick's slowly climbing out of his crater, and while it doesn't erase the past, it's still happening. For me, that's more satisfying than watching a monster become a bigger monster.

Of course, he's still not above cosplaying as Odin while wearing a golden crown that literally says "GOD." But the former "no girls allowed" alpha male has become a dedicated therapy patient who's also a thirst object that would make bros cry about double standards. Sure, Rick, you're a god, now put on that weird half-shirt and prance around a little.

[ectomoog]

How to Get Your Friends into Doctor Who (2005) - A Guide

Ok I really like Doctor Who, and of course I like introducing people to it, but oh my god do you forget how randomly terrible and/or cringy and/or uncomfortably Moffat-esque some of the episodes are, *especially* when you're watching it with someone who has no idea what to expect.

SO I made a list of ten episodes that I think would be the best loose sequence of episodes for a causal introduction to the show...

But first, some requirements:

It has to be a one-off (NO TWO-PARTERS), low commitment, etc

It can't require watching previous OR following episodes to be enjoyable

It needs to actually be good

It needs to represent Doctor Who well

In a social setting where you're showing a group of people an episode, most of these would be fine. Watching consistently with one person however, loosely follow this order, and if your person decides at any point that they want to commit to actually watching the show, skip straight back to The End of The World and watch Series 1. Ok list time...

1. Rose (S1, E01)

I think Rose is the perfect episode of Doctor Who to start on. It's campy, it's fun and weird and it sets up almost everything you need to know for the Revival Era. You get the companion, the Doctor, regular Doctor Who tropes and themes, etc. Plus, if they can't get past the Mickey bin scene, this show probably isn't for them anyway.

2. Dalek (S1, E06)

Skipping a few episodes into Series 1, Dalek is a great way to get a feel for the format of the show, and also a great and intentional introduction to the Daleks. The Doctor and the companion turn up in a mysterious place and have to battle an alien force and really unlikeable one-off side characters, the works basically. It's a fun monster-movie of an episode.

3. Vincent and The Doctor (S5,E10)

Jumping a whole five series forward, Vincent and The Doctor is a notoriously heart-wrenching historical that I think is a classic (if a little indulgent) example of Doctor-meets-famous-historical-figure. It's nice to jump to a different Doctor and a different era of the show, to get a feel for its' diversity. Although there's a few moments relevant to the greater series plot, it's contained, very pretty, very sweet, and easy to understand.

4. Midnight (S4, E10)

Midnight just feels like an essential episode to be honest. A fantastic one-off sci-fi horror/thriller, with one of David Tennant's best performances, a great introduction to the 10th Doctor. It's a shame you don't get more Donna, but I think this one would be my go-to if someone asked for the best episode to watch stand-alone, just based on how genuinely great it is.

5. Heaven Sent (S9, E11)

Jumping to Series 9 with another critically-acclaimed episode, but also one that I think is an amazing introduction to the 12th Doctor. Heaven Sent is a little unconventional, and I'm not 100% sure it should be here, but it does give Capaldi a whole episode to just act his ass off, and he completely delivers. It's artsy, mysterious and dramatic, very much the high concept sci-fi style of Moffat's later scripts, so I think an appropriate watch.

6. The Voyage of The Damned (2007 Special)

If you're not in a festive mood, try The Lodger or Demons of the Punjab instead

The Christmas episodes are too iconic not to show, and as far as Christmassy vibes, celebrity cameos and whimsical concepts go, this one is a fun one. This is David Tennant in his prime, with Kylie Minogue, a massive budget and a romp of a script.

6. Blink (S3, E10)

I mean, duh, but genuinely I think Blink is just *too good* not to include. A tense, creepy, tightly-written piece of horror TV with twists and turns and drama, it's considered the best episode of Doctor Who for a reason, and along with Midnight is an amazing stand-alone episode. It's not super conventional, but all the timey-wimey stuff is very Doctor Who.

6. The Mummy on The Orient Express (S8, E08)

If you're a Tennant stan you could swap this out for The Planet of the Dead

This one is just a fun one really. The Mummy on The Orient Express is stylish and fun, with a cool concept and a little peek into a more complex Doctor-companion relationship. With a short explanation you can get the context pretty easily, and it's a good example of your typical episode anyway.

HOWEVER if you have time, there's a bunch of two-parters you should watch instead, like The Family of Blood, The Empty Child, Silence in the Library, even Extremis.

9. The Haunting of Villa Diodati (S12, E10)

Finally some 13th Doctor rep! This one has some of the strongest writing in the Chibnall era, and is a fun horror mystery that serves as a fun introduction to Jodie Whittaker as the 13th Doctor. It has a little bit of series-wide arc, but that's okay.

10. The Church on Ruby Road (2023 Special 4)

If your person liked all those episodes but still doesn't want to watch 13 seasons of TV, just abandon ship and watch the 2023 Christmas special in preparation for Series 14 (or Season 1) in Spring 2024. The Church on Ruby Road is the beginning of the latest soft reboot of the show and has been explicitly created as a jumping on point for new fans. Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson absolutely shine in this special, it's fun and silly and in my opinion bodes very well for the next season of Doctor Who...

"in 900 years of time and space, I've never met anyone who wasn't important" - Bannakaffalatta

I hope that was a success! After all those episodes hopefully you either had a good time with whoever you were watching it with, or you've already moved onto Series 1! I'll be trying this out the best I can with my girlfriend this year, so look out, because I may be back with adjustments later...

[see-arcane]

What horror movies would each of the crew enjoy? Who dislikes them?

Mina is at the front of the line for scary stories and horror movies alike. She's a bit of a classic ghost story fiend, so the original The Haunting and The Innocents would be her top picks. She'll also re-watch adaptations of M.R. James' ghost stories every December.

Jonathan may have a soft spot for Shakespeare's theatric scares, but straight horror is not for him. The closest he'll come is the type of 'horror' that really amounts to a romance with scary elements painted over it. He knows it doesn't count, but he quite likes The Shape of Water and, he will very hesitantly admit, Only Lovers Left Alive.

Lucy also doesn't consider herself a big horror fan, but will make exceptions for juicy character dramas dipped in corn syrup blood. She considers The Craft a favorite and--so long as she isn't watching it alone--Carrie.

Jack pretends Psycho is his favorite for Classic Cinema Appreciation cred. It's really Ex Machina. No comment.

Arthur is just Not a Fan of Horror. Full stop. His eyes water every time the pet inevitably gets killed off. He cries outright over sympathetic monster stories. Anything more harrowing than a stop-motion Henry Selick flick will have him hiding behind a pillow, and even then he needs to have someone's hand to hold. (The Rhino in James and the Giant Peach gave him nightmares for a week.)

Quincey isn't really a movie guy, period. He is sadly one of those types to hear rave reviews of such-and-such movie or series, swear he'll check it out, and then immediately forget or ignore it into oblivion. The one exception was Jordan Peele's Nope, which Jack and Arthur herded him into. They all thought it was just a sci-fi modern western-adventure movie. Jack staggered out of the theater afterward. Arthur just passed out. Quincey saw it two more times in the theater and now watches it at least once a month at home.

Van Helsing is also not much of a movie guy, but will watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) and The Thing (1982) around Halloween. A bit of a masochistic selection, considering the subject matter, but the stories are too well-done to let the 'conscripting body horror' of it all overwhelm him.

Renfield is fond of telling Jack his favorite is Silence of the Lambs--no guesses why--but if he's being honest, he's a shameless sucker for the type of escapist monster media where the protagonist goes 'Oh no! I've been bitten/cursed/otherwise transformed into a supernatural super-powerful-cool monster who kills all their problems away! Oh nooo~' ...But then, he doesn't consider any of these horror movies. Honest answer? The Fly (1986). He'll never say why.

BONUS:

Dracula watches 30 Days of Night whenever he needs a laugh. He'll binge the entire Hannibal series in...other moods. His roommates know to avoid him when he brings out that particular box set and to pointedly Not Mention a certain soliciting someone for the duration.

The Weird Sisters watch fun old romps like Audition, Fatal Attraction, and both versions of Suspiria for a cozy evening. They only watch The Hunger (1983) when they're feeling maudlin.

[vivitalks]

take in every moment (hold it close again)

hiii this is for the "movie night" prompt on my jasico bingo card!! short sweet and silly the three best things a fanfiction can be. and im posting it in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY seriously who am i title from netflix trip by ajr :) read it here on ao3

It stands to reason that a demigod legion modeled on the Ancient Romans wouldn't think much of technology. And it's true that demigods and modern tech don't tend to get along. It really shouldn't surprise Nico when nobody knows where to find a TV.

And yet.

“Seriously,” he finally complains to Jason, walking Via Principalis with coffee courtesy of Bombilo, “it's like you're all trying to become social outcasts.”

“I think the whole demigod thing covers that,” Jason says.

“My point exactly! Nobody is even trying. Plus, monsters can't get into camp anyway, so who cares if you're using technology?”

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, but why risk it?” 

It's cool but sunny, the perfect weather for Jason. Not that Nico has any sort of bias. Jason looks great in all weather, in Nico's completely objective opinion, but gentle rays of sunlight make his hair as golden as his sword and give his skin an extra glow.

At least six times a day, Nico wonders how the most beautiful person in the world is his boyfriend. Some call it insecurity; Nico calls it a reality check.

He checks back into reality in time for Jason to be saying, “Besides, most of the people here spend their whole lives either in the legion or in New Rome. Nobody is missing out because nobody is on the Internet or watching movies or any of that. It's a pretty insular community.”

“Not anymore,” Nico says. “Now that there's the exchange program, Camp Jupiter is going to start getting Greeks, and most of them spend their years out in the real world, experiencing real-world things, like movies and music and all that fun stuff you Romans hate.”

“Don't ‘you Romans’ us,” Jason says, swatting playfully at Nico. Nico doesn't bother to dodge, but he does grin. “But you may have a point.”

“I do have a point. If you really want the Greeks and Romans to get along, there can't be this massive cultural gap. The Greeks will feel superior, the Romans will feel left out, and then we'll probably have another war and I'll have almost killed myself bringing the Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood for nothing.”

Jason lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, is that all?”

“Shut up. I'm serious!”

“I didn't realize you felt so strongly about this,” Jason says, looking bemused. “Wait, why do you feel so strongly about this?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little behind on popular culture myself,” Nico says flatly.

“Really? Why is that?” Jason asks, with a straight face.

Bravely, Nico ignores him. “I'm trying to kill two birds with one stone here. Get some Vulcan kids to put together a TV. I'm sure they can work their magic and make it monster-repellent or whatever.”

“And do what with it?”

“Start a film class?” Nico suggests. “I would get a Greek demigod to help with the curriculum, though.”

“You can just say Will.”

“I don't think Will should come near the curriculum with a ten-foot pole. He'll just put every single Star Wars movie on there. I was actually thinking of Piper.”

“Piper?” Jason shakes his head. “Right. Duh. Movie star dad.”

“Yeah. She's probably our best bet.”

“We’re going to have to run this by the praetors before we get any further,” Jason says. He takes a long, considering sip of his coffee, which does not contain nearly enough sugar. Nico tried it earlier and almost choked.

“We?”

“Yeah. I'm in favor. You're not wrong about the cultural deficit.”

Nico grins. He kisses the corner of Jason's mouth — just because he can. That sunny glow shines even brighter in Jason's eyes.

“Lucky for us,” he says cheerfully, “we have some sway with the praetors.”

The film class proposal is met with conditional approval from Frank and Reyna. “Culture in Film: From Classic to Contemporary” becomes the most popular course in the legion within days. Piper helps them build a curriculum, which in this case means just choosing fifteen classic movies — all of which she vehemently describes as “must-sees” — and expressing profound shock at the revelation that neither Jason nor Nico have seen any of them.

“But it’s Princess Bride,” she keeps saying. “How can you not have seen it? ‘My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die’? Is nothing sacred?”

If anything, at least her attitude proves how absolutely necessary this class is.

The conditions of the class are sternly outlined for them by Reyna: (1) do not screen anything rated higher than PG-13; (2) only select movies with some relevant message or theme that can be transmitted to the legionnaires; and (3) do not use the forthcoming anti-monster television for anything other than class use.

Rule one is easy. Nico and Jason break the second and third rules within two weeks of the first course.

“I can’t believe you even suggested this,” Nico whispers.

The classroom where “Culture In Film” takes place is silent after hours. At the front of the room towers an 80-inch, Imperial Gold television, the most eye-catching thing in the room. Just below it, there's a box Nico distantly recognizes. A DVD player — Demigod Video Discs, optimized for playback on magical TV screens. This, too, is constructed out of Imperial Gold. No doubt the TV and DVD player combined are imbued with some combination of enchantments designed to make them undetectable to monsters.

“I'm not a praetor anymore,” Jason replies, approaching the DVD player. “What can they do? Kick me out of the legion? Half the time I'm at Camp Half-Blood anyway.”

“Not sure that argument will hold up in front of the Senate,” Nico theorizes, but he's not really worried. In fact, he kind of loves that Jason was so committed to having a movie night with Nico that he was willing to break the rules for it.

“Then let's just not get caught,” Jason says. 

That works for Nico. Their emergency escape route is to shadow-travel out, but since Nico shadow-traveled them in, he's hoping it doesn't come to that. Even the short distance from barracks to classroom has his eyes drooping. If he tries it again, he's liable to pass out.

Jason kneels and examines the DVD player. “Do I just…put it in?”

“I guess?” Nico peers at the player and the TV. “We should probably turn on the TV.”

“That would be smart.”

Nico feels around for a button and finds it underneath the screen. When he presses it, the big black screen turns royal blue, and digital letters show a message onscreen: NO DISC DETECTED.

Nico and Jason exchange a look. 

“Is it weird that I'm more stressed right now than I was when we fought Gaea?” Jason whispers.

Nico laughs. “We're not going to get caught, Jason.”

“I'm not worried about that. I just have no idea how to work this thing. What if I break it?”

“I'll do it,” Nico says, snatching the DVD case from Jason's hands. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, another “must-see” from Piper that didn't make the curriculum cut. According to Jason, when he told her he'd never even heard of it, she got Leo to modify a disc for their benefit and demanded he find some way to watch it. Nico, having also never heard of it, got roped into the deal by some combination of Charmspeak and standard-issue Jason Grace-ness.

Nico removes the disc and takes a breath. “Here goes nothing.”

As soon as the disc is in the player, the machine whirs. The screen turns black again. Nico and Jason take a united step backwards.

“Isn't there supposed to be a remote?” Jason asks. At the word remote, a panel from the top of the DVD player opens up. Inside is a remote. “Oh, sweet.”

“Come on,” Nico says, throwing himself onto the nearest couch. Romans and their couches. They're an indulgent breed, these Romans, but in times like these Nico appreciates that.

“Is it playing?” Jason questions, and just then, a deafening blast of orchestral sound erupts from the TV. Jason yelps and staggers backwards, and Nico cracks himself up. “Okay! It's playing!”

“Sit down, Superman.”

Jason sits down. He takes the spot right next to the armest. Nico would never take the armrest seat. He likes to have an escape route. He's special like that.

(“Traumatized,” whatever. Tomato, to-mah-to.)

“So far so good,” Jason says, offering an arm, kind of gesturing at Nico to come closer. Nico obliges. Jason doesn't mind being trapped, which is his own prerogative. So Nico takes up every inch of space on Jason's free side. He's not so small anymore, but he fits right up under Jason's arm like the dark half of a yin and yang symbol.

“Nothing's happened yet,” he points out.

Jason just squeezes his shoulders. “I'm having a movie night with my boyfriend. Like a regular teenager. Everything is great from where I'm standing.”

“Let's not be hasty. The movie could still suck.”

“Wouldn't matter.”

“It'd matter to me,” Nico says haughtily. “I'm putting a lot of faith in Piper.”

“She seemed absolutely confident we would both like this movie.”

“So imagine how foolish she'll feel if we don't.”

“I'm starting to think your attitude is the problem.” Jason grins. “Open your mind, Nico.”

“I'm open-minded!”

“And shut up,” Jason adds. “‘Cause we've already missed the beginning and I don't know how to rewind this thing.”

“Not my fault,” Nico says. “I was just—”

Jason shuts him up by occupying his mouth with Jason's mouth, which is a proven top-five strategy for getting Nico to stop talking. 

“Okay,” he says. And kisses Jason again. It's never any less awesome. “Shutting up.”

The movie keeps playing. Nico settles into Jason with his whole body and thinks about how this is the first time he's ever watched a movie with a boyfriend, and how absolutely astonishing that is, by itself. Even if it does suck, he figures there are worse things in the world than watching a bad movie with your boyfriend.

In fact, there might not be many things better.

[obscure-imaginations]

The Skeleton Crew: Favorite Couples’ Activity + Ideal Date

SFW. Under the cut for length.

Classic (Undertale Sans): Classic loves napping with you. He gets to cuddle you, get nice and warm, and sleep. What can be better? Bonus points if you’re both slacking off of responsibilities. Those kinds of naps hit different. For his ideal date, getting takeout from Grillby’s and watching a movie together on the couch in a pillow fort is exquisite. You both end up falling asleep tangled in a mess of blankets.

Vanilla (Undertale Papyrus): Going on walks. He gets to use up some energy while holding your hand and rambling about everything and nothing. He’d adore ending up at a park and going on the swing set. Don’t let him push you, otherwise he’ll push too hard and you’ll go up too far. Poor guy doesn’t know his own strength sometimes. Vanilla would love packing a picnic and taking you somewhere nice where you can cloud/star gaze. He makes special shapes with all of the food, mainly dinosaurs and hearts. He will take the crust off of your sandwich if you don’t like them, or will give you his if you do.

Red (Underfell Sans): Red would adore teaching you something. Whether it’s guitar, complex mathematics, or just how to make a sandwich, he loves it. It makes him feel like he’s contributing something to the relationship. His self esteem is boosted for days after a learning session. If you want to teach him something in return, he is all for it. Even if it’s something he already knows, he will act stupid just so you can show him. This dude is down bad. Red’s favorite date is going to an arcade. He’ll win you everything you want, he’s got the skill. He might also be using magic to cheat, but if it wasn’t for his constant winning streak, it would be unnoticeable. Don’t ever take him to a casino.

Edge (Underfell Papyrus): Edge loves cooking with you. You might think he would be insufferable about the kitchen, but when it’s just the two of you, he’s rather calm. He trusts you not to mess anything up, and even if you do, he’ll help fix it and move on. His favorite dish to make with you is, of course, homemade lasagna. He gives you full control over the cheese, a huge sign that he loves and trusts you. The Great and Terrible Edge... would melt by going to a cat cafe. He will sit absolutely still, letting the kitties crawl all over him. He doesn’t even get coffee, he just hangs out with the cats, holding your hand. At the end of the session, he tearfully asks you to adopt all of them. You broken heartedly have to remind him that you already have Doomfanger (and any of your cats, if you have any).

Blue (Underswap Sans): Blue would love to train with you! Depending on your level, he’ll help you start off small by lifting soup cans, or straight up sparring. He’s a good teacher when it comes to physical activity. However, he’s a stickler for proper technique. If a single muscle moves wrong, he’ll be on you about it. He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself, love! Blue’s favorite date is going to any sort of buffet. As a monster, he can eat quite a bit before feeling full. He loves sampling all the different foods. He will also feed you off of his plate. “Try this!” “These flavors are amazing!” “What do you think of this?” You can hardly move by the time you’ve eaten AND he’s had you try everything with him, twice.

Stretch (Underswap Papyrus): Stretch likes to chill with you. Not quite napping, maybe watching a movie while cuddling on the couch or something. Pull out an educational documentary for the two of you to discuss afterwards and he’s golden. If it’s something that you’re interested in, he will happily let you ramble. Stretch’s favorite date is going to some sort of class- painting, acting, comedy, any of the arts. He gets to feel productive (even if he puts in minimal effort) and spend time with you, so it’s a win-win.

Mafiatale Sans: All of the main Mafia Sanses love to dance, and Tale is no different. Whether you’re doing the dramatic tango, or the romantic waltz, or just swaying together to whatever music, he will 100% drop everything to dance with you. He always has to take a nap with you afterwards- it sweetens the deal. Tale will constantly take you to Grillby’s to eat, drink, and dance. Whatever the mood is, is up to you. If you want to be surrounded by friends and firing puns with him, or sitting in a back corner watching the crowd with him, he’s down for it. As long as he gets to see your beautiful/handsome smile, he’s content.

Mafiatale Papyrus: While the Mafia Sanses love dancing, the Mafia Papyruses love to sing. So that’s what he wants to do with you! If you’re shy, he will gladly cover his skeleton ears, as long as you sing! He wants you to be confident! Take him to some sort of karaoke bar (if you’re modern) and he will be thrilled doing a duet with you. Paps just wants a quiet evening at home. He’ll cook spaghetti and light some candles, setting the mood for romance. He’ll let you talk about whatever you want- it gets his mind off of his work. Eventually, he’ll be able to clear his mind away from all that and engage more in a discussion rather than just listening to you. At the end of the date, even if you live together, he always insists upon kissing you, if you’re comfortable with that. He’s always a gentleman.

[idontlikejazzsonowitsmyname]

I am so glad tumblr hasn't found out about or is atleast ignoring the live action monster high movie nickelodeon wasted 6 million on in order to try take away every good bit of representation i experienced as a child.

They changed Draculora from a vegan vampire who finds it hard to not give her heart to anybody who will take it and loves poetry and art and fashion into a cold rude upfront witch who now has pink skin for no reason and looks like Melanie Martinez.

They turned Clawdeen from a brooklyn sounding tough werewolf with atleast 7 siblings and a sporty lesbian with a dream for fashion into some nervous clumsy straight bitch who gets hate crimed 10 minutes into her first day at school

They took away Ghoulia Yelps speech impediment which was not only one of her main and most recognisable traits but also the only good representation on autistic people not speaking other than mute i have ever seen.

They made Lagoona BLUE into one of the only actors not covered in body paint and gave her pink hair, they also swapped her personality from a patient and curious no nonsense ghoul whos only exception is her boyfriend who doesnt have the greatest homelife into what looks like an aggressive and violent boot licking wanna be vampire

They made Frankie blue, once again took away all her defining features and straight up made her look like an oc, instead of being the nerdy always eager to learn and brave geek they made her into some kind of robot whos incapable of understanding basic body language but can figure out her principles (who she saw once) bathroom schedule

Draculora is a witch in the live action disaster but she sleeps in a coffin? And hates sunlight? IS SHE A VAMP OR WHAT MAKE UP TOUR MJND NICK

Duece's entire character design, personality and visual wise is a bigger hate crime than the time cops tried to behead a monster student in pne of the GOOD movies, i genuinely thought he was jackson or jekyll.

Heath burns cgi is awful and i couldn't even focus on anything else, his hair is like a car wreck, except a car wreck would make me cry less, ynless it had pullys in it i guess.

Cleo de nile was a mean if not bitchy character in the classic series who was basicly the definition of ghoulboss gatekeep but she was not racist, infact shes the least racist out of her family, shes also that one rich friend who buys everyone stuff, and they made her racist and more than likely into the live actions villian or atleast a side one.

I have more to say but im genuinely about ro cry myself to sleep about all my first ever bits of rep being taken away by nickelodeon again, they are trying to take away the queer, disabled and poc representation that monster high has buikt for us through the years and its horrible and i dont know how to win this other than not watching it and even that feels like losing.

Tiktok cosplayers genuinely carrying my spirit right now, these people are the only reasonnim gonna be able to sleep tonight

[superman86to99]

Legends of the World’s Finest #1-3 (1994)

A sequel to the classic World’s Finest miniseries (the one where Superman gives Batman a VHS copy of Zorro for Christmas) that ups the weirdness by like 666%. If the original mini was about “What if Superman and Batman traded villains?” this one is about “What if Superman and Batman traded dreams and got mixed up in a satanic plot to rule the world via half-Kryptonian, half-Irish super-babies?” Don’t act like you’ve never wondered about that.

This whole mess is triggered by an impertinent Irish teenager going snooping in the ancient castle of the Clan McDougal -- the place where Silver Banshee fell victim to the sexist curse that turned her into a monster centuries ago (as seen in 1988′s Superman #23). The girl finds a mysterious book in the castle and decides to perform a ritual from it, because they don’t have horror movies in Ireland. The ritual summons a demon called Tullus, who hijacks the girl’s body to bring Silver Banshee back. Turns out Tullus is Banshee’s grand-grand-grand-etc-daddy and the one responsible for her curse. Banshee isn’t exactly thrilled by the family reunion, until Tullus says he just wants to break the curse and finally allow her to take that pesky Día de los Muertos make-up off her face.

According to Tullus, the only way to break the curse is to defeat the ruler of Hell, Lady Blaze, who kept him enslaved for 1,000 years before that girl stumbled upon that book. Tullus says they’ll need some help to do this, so he magically looks up the world’s finest warriors and finds out about Superman and Batman. Unfortunately, he thinks the former is too much of a goody-two-shoes to be of any use when dealing with satanic curses (even though Superman has defeated Blaze multiple times before) and the latter isn’t powerful enough. Instead of just asking both for help, Tullus decides it would be easier to cause Superman and Batman to switch dreams and, therefore, personalities.

So, Superman suddenly starts dreaming about Jor-El and Lara getting shot down in an alley after a night at the movies...

...while Batman dreams about feeling extremely out of place in a planet full of shiny towers and bright green sci-fi tunics.

As a result, Superman becomes way darker and more violent (he almost kills some criminals until Lois Lane intervenes) and agrees to help Tullus and Silver Banshee against Blaze despite their obvious shadiness. Meanwhile, Batman starts doubting his violent methods and becomes, well, kind of a wuss. But, as the narration reminds us, courage is not the absence of wussiness; it’s finding the will to face it.

As they work together against Blaze, Banshee starts feeling attracted to the darker, edgier Superman (must be the 5 o’clock shadow that spontaneously appears whenever he’s turning evil) but she’s frustrated by his devotion to Lois. Banshee ends up impersonating a harlequin on the street to sell Lois a magical balloon that somehow turns her into a mute child, which makes Superman forget all about her and give in to his lust for Banshee. This is disturbing for a number of reasons, starting with the fact that, uh, isn’t Banshee using the body of a teenager in these panels?

Tullus and the lovebirds up there go to Hell and defeat Blaze with the help of an army of Irish zombies. Then, Tullus’ first act as new Lord of Hell is to invite his demonic subjects to a nice wedding ceremony for Superman and Banshee at old McDougal Castle. At this point everyone sorta forgets that Tullus’ goal was supposed to be ending his family’s curse -- now he wants to “foster a new race of super-beings” by “joining mortal and demon” (carnally, I guess).

However, Batman works up the courage to crash the wedding wearing the skin of a demon he slayed in a sewer and interrupts the proceedings. Since he’s seriously underpowered, he makes a deal with a weakened Blaze, who decks him out with an armor straight out of a ‘90s toy line. This is when we finally get the fight between Cool Demonic Armor Batman and Edgy Possessed Superman promised by the third cover at the top of this post.

Plot twist: Turns out that Banshee actually cares for her would-be husband, since she’s desperate to help Superman in the fight against Batman. Tullus, however, is like “Nah, let’s see what happens” and forcefully stops Banshee, which is when she realizes that he never gave a crap about ending their family’s curse (or about her in general). Banshee actually gives up her new body to free Lois, then begs her to “Save him, woman! Save my love...” as she banishes.

Superman and Batman end up unconscious during different points in their fight and get their original dreams back, turning them back into their old selves. They join forces to defeat Tullus, his demons, and Blaze (who of course betrays Batman the second she doesn’t need him anymore) and throw them all down into Hell. Both agree that the other one has disturbing dreams, and Superman reassures Lois that he think she’s hotter than Banshee.

We end with that teen from the beginning dropping off the book in the castle and getting the hell out of there while probably promising herself she’ll never read another book ever again.

Character-Watch:

It’s interesting that this miniseries has a lot more Batman villains than Superman ones (Man-Bat, Two-Face, Joker, Riddler, Killer Croc, Penguin, and Catwoman are all in it) but a lot more Superman continuity. Early on, we find out Blaze is still sore about the time Superman went down to her domain and retrieved Jimmy Olsen’s soul. There are several references to Superman #23, including appearances by the ancient ghost lady who banished Banshee to Irish Hell in that issue. She helps Batman at one point, and the story ends with the revelation that she’s Tullus’ mom.

As far as I can tell, Tullus never showed up again™ and no other comics have brought up the fact that Silver Banshee is in love with Superman and once sacrificed herself for him, but I could be wrong. There IS a Silver Banshee miniseries written by this one’s artist, Dan Brereton, which came out in 1998, but I haven’t read it yet so I don’t know how connected it is to this one. We’ll find out when we get there, if the world hasn’t been conquered by demons by then.

[modstin]

A Yuletide Carol, Stave 1: Bob Cratchit

A slightly tilted retelling of the Charles Dickens classic, featuring illustrations!

Before we can begin on this mutual enjoyment of fiction, it must be set out first and straight the fact of one Jacob Marley.

He's dead.

Jacob Marley, in fact, died almost a decade ago. Seven years, to the day where this story shall actually begin (which I promise will happen shortly). His death certificate was signed by the clergy that handled the funeral, and by his partner; Ebenezer Scrooge.

Ebenezer Scrooge, at the funeral, did have a few kind words for the man. “A fine businessman,” he said, “Intellectual and prudent. A man you could bend a horseshoe around, good for the money,” and so forth.  

If there was anything Ebenezer knew personally about the man, he did not show it. Scrooge knew he was dead, at the very least. Of course he would know that, he'd been partnered to him for many many years before his demise, and even found him sitting stone dead in the seat that would soon hold his assistant clark. 

But that was seven years ago. And Marley has been dead for those seven years. Mind you, this is not an uncommon state of affairs. I think you'll find most people are dead. Really, they're the majority. And it's a stain on democracy that we so rarely listen to them.

The fact that Marley is dead is important to come completely to terms with, as not doing so and pretending the opposite will make some of the further dreadful scenes I will relate to you quite confusing. It would be silly, after all, to react with such fear and horror to one's father entering the room, were you not Hamlet and your father been dead since before the play started. So yes, remember that fact, Jacob Marley is dead.

Another thing I must educate you on is the world you are about to enter. I assume you already have a firm grasp on the difference between fiction and reality, and thus I must explain that the story I am about to tell you is completely true. It really did happen.

It just happened to take place in a completely fictional world.

Unlike many fantasy novels, where you'll find a series of maps and factions and wars and a timeline and perhaps a 20 hour audiobook detailing the epic and admittedly napworthy lore of the backdrop and its strange and remarkably over thought ruleset governing how magic works, I feel it only necessary to bore you with the very basics.

It is a fantasy world, not unlike those you've seen in those fancy movies. You know the ones where the effects budgets quite outweigh tenfold the cost of living for all the homeless people sleeping outside the studio. Lack of budget notwithstanding, I'll try to make this just as entertaining as those, though with likely less sword fights and magic duels.

In this fantasy world, there is indeed magic. But like in real life, where we may be aware of Quicksand and Spike Pits and Giant Monstrous Lizards who would tower above even our finest war tanks... Rarely are these facts relevant to day-to-day activities, unless you happen to be a paleontologist. 

So the story that I'm going to tell you is terrific, even to the old fool it will be happening to. Don't think just because he lives in a world with dragons, that what he's going to experience is anywhere near his normal.

This world that I will be showing to you is called Mira. It is a world with blue oceans, green grass, many different types of animals, and very few of our modern conveniences. It also has a ring around it, like Saturn! It's very pretty.

Monsters and Magic aside, there will be times I use words one could mistrue as an insult. Let me shake those worries away now, when I refer to someone as a Goblin, that is quite a literal sentiment. They have green skin, a large nose, floppy ears, and enjoy living in little underground tunnels. None of the goblins in this story, however, do so, they live in apartments and little houses just like you and me. 

Note that species will be rarely relevant to this story, and anything breaking from the normal day to day life of your average hard working paleontologist that is relevant will be promptly explained to you. There will be, of course, provided illustrations, which should be illuminating if not entirely illogical.

Where should we begin... the beginning isn't good, I already told you the details of that. Jacob Marley, dead, you get it. Perhaps the present then. Yes, let's go with that.

The sun rose. It was perhaps the only thing it really did outside of being bright. Producing heat seemed to be low on its list of priorities this morning. For this was, of course, the Eve of Yule.

Yule, in certain parts of Mira, is celebrated as part of the Winter Solstice. It is the day of, in fact. The shortest day of the year, at least in the hemisphere we're concerned with for this story. Yule is preceded by Yule's Eve, which is itself preceded by about half a month of general worry and preparation known as Yuletide.

Yule may, in some sense, present parallels to certain festivals on Earth. This is intentional. Write what you know, after all. I may enlighten you to the specifics soon, but don't count on it. I'm not a very reliable narrator.

The light was intense, even with no heat backing it, as it got many chances to reflect on the surface of ice and snow throughout the streets of Amalen, capital city of the Melodic Empire (sometimes called just Melodia, to sound less boastful or challenging to nearby powers).

The rush of inward cold air was comparable to a ship sprouting a leak a few inches from your face. And it took many forceful pushes to get the door closed again. Not because of much wind, but because of the shaggy rug that Bob Cratchit had gotten second hand from one of his cousins.

"Phew!" Cratchitt muttered, patting the frost of the outdoors off of his furred rabbitish face (And I do mean this literally, remember what I said earlier please). He adjusted his coat as his wife approached, holding a few pieces of forlorn clothing.

"Your scarf dear."

"Ah, yes."

"And your hat, dear."

"Of course, what would I do without you-"

"And your pants. Dear."

Bob Cratchit adjusted his stance a bit and lifted one of his feet to pop it into the short set of trousers. Wearing pants was a bit more optional for some folk on Mira, what with modest fur coverings, but on a day like today, freezing some important bits of yourself off would be a consequence.

Emily Cratchit patted down her husband's clothing to straighten it out after tying his scarf about his neck. Emily, in point of fact, was not very rabbit-like. Rather, she was a goblin. Not very plump like they often are, but with long hair and dark green speckles of freckles. It was thanks to her being a goblin and having such a height as one that she didn't have to kneel or stand on tiptoes to kiss Bob, "Now, you’re to have a fine day, and you're to ask Scrooge for a raise like we talked about last night." She stated it as a fact rather than a question or suggestion.

Bob had a few starts as he faced down the oncoming carriage, and decided to try to risk going between the wheels, "Darling, it's... well, you know its a bit more complex than-"

"Robert Cratchit!" Bob realized far too late that before there was the carriage, there was also the horse to worry about, "You cannot keep apologizing for that old man's miserliness! I won't have it any longer! You work so much overtime for that old fool and have nothing to show for it!" Emily pressed forward, and shook her finger in her husband's face, "We need more money here!"

"I know, dear-" Bob placated.

"Not just for Timothy, Aude knows he needs it, but..." She placed her hand against her stomach, perhaps unconsciously.

Bob did the same, putting his palm on top of the back of her hand and getting close. A warm atmosphere of love pressed outwards, a foggy kind of dream that Bob felt he was lost in whenever he looked into his wife's eyes. Even after these years, and the many struggles to make it from one to the next. "I promise... I'll ask."

"Thank you, dear." Emily said, leaning forward and embracing him. After the short hug, she let go and shoved him towards the door, "Well, get a move on. I must get started on tomorrow's dinner."

At the best of times, and despite himself, Bob sometimes found his wife's cooking questionable, but this was downright interrogative, "You're starting tomorrow's dinner this morning?"

"You deal with numbers and old fools," Emily said, "And I'll deal with the cooking. Understood?"

Bob had no willingness to get in front of another carriage nor horse this morning, "Yes dear. I'll see you this evening!" He smiled and took his hat in both hands, lifting it and popping it right onto his head! It looked a bit like one of those drawings in fairytales, where a rabbit wore a silly tophat with its ears sticking out. Like an upside down outcome of a backwards magician's act. But it was warm, and that's what counted.

He stepped out of his home. It was a two story structure, but built very thin, and the stories were rather stout anyway, since it was made for goblins and munchkins like Emily and Bob. Half the Size doesn't necessarily mean Half the Living Space, but Half the Budget often does.

Bob bounced along as bunnies tend to do, and headed down the street so as to not be late to work at Scrooge and Marley's.

As Bob Cratchit dodged a slow rolling cart, making his way across frosted cobbles and snowdrifts from the previous night's meteorological efforts, he was caught by the sudden warmth of a window, bringing with it the sweet scent of freshly baked bread.

"Bonjour Monsieur Cratchit!" Said the fat man who leaned out the window Bob had been crossing under.

Melodic was Bob's first language, but he had become too used to speaking Merchant's Tongue, a favorite of metropolitan Melodians. However, Jean Paris the baker often peppered the words into his natural dialect to keep conversation fresh as bread. "Oh! Bonjour Monsieur Paris." Bob nodded, keeping his paws tightly tucked into his pockets. "Baking for tomorrow?"

"Oui! I have a very special order, in fact!" Mr. Paris said, leaning on one arm out of "For Monsieur Scrooge and his big Yule party tomorrow!"

Bob stared at Mr. Paris, then looked down the street for a few moments. He was frozen in contemplation, the cold air having nothing to do with it. After hesitation, he turned his head, and with sudden exclamation, "Ebenezer Scrooge is hosting a Yule Party?" The complaint that Bob, Scrooge's single employee, had not been invited was at the back of the line in terms of questions and concerns to be filed immediately.

"What?! No no no!" The fat man began to laugh as he waved his hands frantically, "Ooh hoh hoh! If- If Ebenezer Scrooge-" He had to catch his breath, but kept laughing as he talked, "If Ebenezer Scrooge hosted a party! Why! He'd be selling the slices of ham by the millimeter! Hahaha! He'd be- There'd be a fee at the door! And you'd get a bill afterwards for air consumption in his house! Hahahaha!" The man chortled and laughed further on the mere idea that Ebenezer Scrooge would ever host anything beyond ill-will.

"Right..." Bob said, turning his eyes down to the sidewalk as he considered his boss for a moment...

Scrooge. What could be said about him?

Tight Fisted was a good phrase, though a more accurate turn of phrase would include words like 'locked' and 'glued' and 'cement encased'. A clamp upon money like an oyster on a pearl. Sharp as flint but never so generous as to give warmth to anyone without a percentage interest on the steel. Hard-set in his ways, a rut to and from his office.

A hobgoblin, with a wiry chin and sharp features, cold and cruel even for the generally stern folk that hobs tended to be. A permanent frown affixed to his over-wrinkled elderly face, fitted with a squint that could sour beer and a sneer that could curdle milk. All the better to glare down debtors from his desk.

He wouldn't step in a puddle to splash an orphan, merely because doing so would mean he'd have to pay to get his socks cleaned. Lo was there to be any child in his way, however. Were a blind man to be in Scrooge's path on his rounds, their guiding animal would pull them to an alley and refuse to move until the hob had passed. If the King himself were traveling with his retinue down a predetermined road, which just so happened to leave Scrooge's schedule out of its plans, he would add five turns to avoid crossing the hob.

Even the weather had little effect on the eternally congested man, no chill able to reach bones so frosted over by a cold and dead heart which barely beat more than once a minute. What worse could a rime of frost across his face do to the already bloodshot leering man with a gait so frigid it brought about a blizzard of hate in its wake?

Yes, Scrooge was all that and worse. And he was Bob Cratchit's boss.

"No!" Mr. Paris said, snapping Bob from his contemplation, "Of course not! I'm talking about dear old Fred! His Nephew! Wonderful man, one of my finest customers! He's hosting a party tomorrow. Hm, wish I were invited. I've heard they're quite rambunctious with their beer!" The man's smile stretched down two of his chins.

"Mm." Bob said, still mildly distracted. Then he looked up at Mr. Paris, "If you'd like, Monsieur, you can of course pay a visit to my home! I doubt my wife will take portion size into account! She thinks Tiny Tim can eat so much more than he can, you know. I bet there'll be more than leftovers."

"Ah... Tim." Mr. Paris nodded, "How is he doing?"

"Better! The young lady that came yesterday said he'd be... he'd likely be able to get to the table for Dinner! No... presents this year, what with the treatment. B-But he's happy. He's very excited for tomorrow, you know how kids are."

"Right..." Mr. Paris said. He tried to shift the mood again with a smile, "I'll be sure to hold you to that dinner, Cratchit, if I can pull myself out of the oven! Last minute Yule Cakes are the bread and butter of my operation in winter, aside from the bread and the butter, I mean! Hoh hoh hoh!" The man laughed at his own little joke, wiping chilled sweat from his forehead.

"Haha hahh..." Bob feigned a laugh, "I ought to be getting along. Nice talking to you, Monsieur!" Bob said, offering a friendly nod before bounding off down the street.

"Mmmh..." Mr. Paris sighed to himself, watching Bob leave, "Mayhaps a small cake for the boy... rabbits eat... carrots, right? Or is that offensive..." He muttered.

Scrooge had never painted over the sign. It read Scrooge and Marley's. It had for seven years, and long before that, just with the latter being alive at that time. Scrooge didn't care to have it painted, doing so would cost at least a dollar. Scrooge answered to either name these days, it made no difference.

Besides, anyone walking up the street would first see the sign hanging perpendicular, showing the Multi-Headed Draconic Symbol of the Silver Guild.

The Silver Guild was a sort of guild of bankers. It runs operations of banking, tax collecting, and money lending from either side of the continent, not just for Melodia. And one of the many operating offices in Amalen under their guildship was Scrooge and Marley's.

When Bob entered, he was looking at his watch. Then he heard the choking.

Bob's hops picked up pace as he bounded around the small desk he manned at the front, and into the back room. The office that Scrooge used.

It was sparing of detail, very good for me as a writer! It had a filing cabinet, a desk, a chair, an old coughing man in that chair, a candle, and a few necessary items. A single pen, a sheet of paper, and an abacus. It had nothing else.

And I do mean nothing else. It had no atmosphere, no warmth, no feeling of being filled or used, merely occupied. Its stagnant and cold air was only warmed up by the vibrations of the man having a fit in the midst of it. And that's when Bob slapped his boss on the back.

The hocked loogie of phlegm was dislodged. You'd expect something like black tar or nicotine ladened sludge. But if you'd expect that, you clearly haven't yet picked up on the kind of man that Scrooge was. Indeed, were tobacco free, he might have partaken. But the cost of addiction was too high... not to his health, mind you, but to his wallet.

"LATE!" He struggled out after air had finally reached his shriveled old lungs, "You're late, Cratchit." He said between panting gasps.

"... What?" Politeness had streamed out of Bob's range as confusion settled in.

"Don't those big ears do anything for you, man? I said you're late!"

"... No I'm not!" Bob said, usually never one to argue with his boss, "I'm right on time!"

With a flip and a light snatching sound, Ebenezer Scrooge had his pocket watch in his hand, "Seven O' Clock... One MInute and Thirteen Seconds Late."

Thankfully, Bob had his watch in his hand as well, and checked it, "Well- Well yes, but I got in a minute and thirteen seconds ago, sir! I was patting your back!"

"I could've handled it!" Ebenezer waved his hand, "You're wasting my time! My money! I'm paying you for your schedule, Bob Cratchit! That means you ought to be doing what I pay you to do! Not bothering around in my office!"

"I-" Bob started to say something, but then nodded. He had long ago realized how far you could push an argument with Scrooge. The argument was usually a few inches from a sheer cliff, no matter what it was about. "Right sir. Sorry sir." He didn't have to feign apology, that has never worked once in the history of argument. Exasperation did its job in place of lies.

"I'll be taking the minutes out of your pay. Two minutes ten seconds Bob. Get to your desk and good morning to you." Scrooge never once said Good Morning as a greeting, nor Good Afternoon. Bob had never heard him say Good Evening, certainly. Good Night was often followed by a comment on how much time Bob had wasted during the Good Day.

Bob hopped out of Ebenezer's office and sat at his desk, adjusting his seating as he pulled out papers. The chill of the new winter sprung into his bones, and he tightened his scarf. If there were heating in Scrooge and Marley's, then it seemed to be much less admonished for calling off than Bob was.

There was another fit of coughing, but Bob ignored it as he flipped through files on the new league of debtors that Scrooge had been bleeding dry.

Scrooge lent to his side and hocked up another wad of phlegm onto the floor next to him. He grunted as he took in a breath afterwards. His eye went down to the blob, and then back to his papers. "Bah... Cratchit can clean it later." he muttered.

It was some time later that someone actually entered into the office of Scrooge and Marley's. Rarely did anyone seem cheerful to do so, and when they did, it did not last long past the door. Bob saw two masked and robed women enter.

It would be pertinent to describe to you what the regional celebration of Yule is, as well as what these strange women are. I promise to try to keep it as short as I can.

The two women standing before Bob Cratchett are members of the Shianistic Religious Order, specifically the sect of Veritan Saintism. If these words confuse you, then pretend they don't exist. They're named Shians because of their masks, which are called Shia. They worship one of the many gods (as fantasy worlds oft have more than one) named Aude. Her holy light, guidance of all, true caretaker of the meek, and so on and so forth. You can make up the rest if you’d like, the Shians do so often.

Saintist Shians also worship a set of other gods, though calling them that would very much upset any Catholics reading this, so I'll refrain and call them what they are; Saints. One such Saint is named Noelle.

As the story goes, Noelle died in a blizzard trying to deliver a sled full of goodies to an orphanage. The goodies arrived safely, of course, as is the way with folk stories. And she has been called upon to deliver goods and cheer to the little children of those homes who worship Aude in the coldest bit of winter. Yuletide was not distinctly a Shian holiday, but was celebrated as such by Saintists.

This is why there were two strange women wearing masks and robes. Shianism being his religion of choice, and being a church going man in spite of his boss' protests, Bob was familiar with the two.

"I am Mel."

"I am Mal."

"... No. No. You are Mel. I am Mal."

"I am Mel? You are Mal?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Bob had to assume they thought this bit was very clever, since they seemed to do it every single time they introduced themselves.

The two shians wore normal garb. Hoods, Robes, Gloves, Masks, and some warmer accouterments like boots. One was red, the other green, though they were absurdly disproportionate. Mel was exceptionally short, and Mal the opposite. Their masks were upside down. They were one of the stranger species you'd find in the magical fantasy world of Mira; being Punchinellettes (Punchinello being the masculine term).

Clowns. They were clown people. You couldn't see the big red noses with the masks on, but clowns are clowns wherever in the universe you wander.

Ina stepped between them. An average of their heights and wearing blue garb, a normal mask, a bit of colorful hair around the hood, "And I am Ina!" She said, finishing the bit despite Bob already knowing her name. She broke character immediately to cross her arms. "Oh dear, it's cold in here... is the heating broken?"

Indeed, it was cold. The faint wisps of air that carried the candle light closer to Cratchit gave the only bits of warmth he had enjoyed since coming into work. If walls were for keeping weather out, then they were slacking. It was likely that the only reason Scrooge didn't work out in the middle of a field rather than pay for a building was because there'd be nowhere to keep the money.

"No..." Bob said, unsure of the truthfulness of his answer, "How may I help you, Ina?"

"We are seeking donations for Yule!" The cheeriness of the statement was punctuated by a thump from Scrooge's office, which forced a shiver up Bob's spine.

His expression froze, "Oh… you are?"

"Indeed. Is Mr. Marley or Mr. Scrooge in? I'd like to-"

"Mmm?" Grumbled out the proprietor as he opened his office door.

The old hobgoblin stood, hunched over a cane. He seemed built for three legs. The glare just wouldn't be right if it wasn't slightly pointed up at you.

Bob faded into the background of the conversation, aware now that this local shian had not yet acquainted herself with Mr. Scrooge... Perhaps this was her first round. Perhaps she had been between choices and seen a Silver Guild house that, for some reason, was not on her list. And decided to poke in and greet the likely very generous man who hadn't yet been called upon to give.

"Mr Marley, I presume?" Ina said.

"Presume wrong. Marley's been dead seven years. Died on this very night, seven years ago, in fact..."

"Oh. Then I'm sure his spirit is carried on by his living partner then!" Ina wound her way back magnificently, "It is upon these solemn and cold days in the midst of winter that-"

"Autumn." Scrooge interjected.

"... Ah?"

"Autumn. Winter starts tomorrow. That's what a solstice is."

Bob shrunk in his chair, wishing very much he could literally fade into the background. Any ground other than the middle would be choice right about now...

"W-Well, on the Eve of Winter, when it is most cold and dire. We wish to give to our community! The Shian's do run a Home for the Homeless, and of course there is our Free Medical Care for the disadvantaged. We also pitch in for funds for local orphanages and soup kitchens in the nearby villages!" Ina said. She lifted her pen and a pad of paper, "So many are in want of... common comforts, and its thanks to donations like yours that the necessities of these disadvantaged and impoverished are met."

"Mmm..." Scrooge thought, scratching the tip of his chin. Bob couldn't help but to turn his head and watch the wrinkles on his boss's face move across his expressions as he considered.

"Are there no prisons?" Scrooge asked.

Ina looked away for a moment, repathing her thought, "Uh. Yes, sir. I'm certain there still are many prisons. I am aware of the local Prison offshore, at the very least... One of my cousins works there, performing-"

"Are there no workhouses?" Scrooge further prodded, honest concern in his voice.

"Oh dear, unfortunately there are. Despite the work of the Guilds to combat unfair work practices, there are still workhouses open on, what I must say are shakey legal-"

"And those... child labor laws, they've been enacted, then surely?" His line of questions had a serious tone, concern riddled it like the plague.

"Ah, you mean the ones to combat those small 'farms'." The disgust in the woman's voice came with the quotes, "Not yet, though I'm sure our patricians will soon push through such legislation." She sounded quite cheered at this. Bob could only wonder what she thought Scrooge was actually getting at...

"Ah. I was wondering if something had happened. Based on what you were saying at first. That these very useful institutions had been lost to this social progress."

Ina stopped moving, her face ostensibly pointed at Scrooge, she resorted to memory and lifted her pen again, "What shall I put you down for, Mr. Scrooge?"

"Nothing. Of course." Scrooge said.

"... Ah!" Ina said, nodding, "You wish to remain anonymous, I-"

"Nothing." Scrooge repeated, "I wish to be left alone! If there is an answer you seek, that is the one I offer, young lady. If the poor wish to be merry on Yule, they may happily take themselves to the establishments I had mentioned!"

"Many cannot!" Ina said, trying to steer the conversation to one she could fill with her own creed, "And still, many would rather die than work for those borderline illegal institutions."

"Then let them die!" The old Hob shook his head, speaking as though talking to a complete moron, "It's not my business what the wasteful and the poor do! If they died, much the better to the economy! We're better without bums!"

"And what of the sick?" Ina said, her mask drifted to Bob, who had put his head down out of an ingrained rabbit survival instinct to burrow in the face of danger.

"Bah!" Scrooge said, "If they're not getting better themselves, and they can't AFFORD to eat a little gruel, they can die too! Die in the gutter, die in the streets, as long as they do so away from my business."

Mel and Mal, who had not said or done much of anything during this argument, serving as mere set dressing for the charity collection, now looked at eachother. They didn't seem to come to any conclusion, and looked back to Scrooge.

"The business of all people is generosity and to the betterment of one's fellow man!" Ina touted.

"What would you know about business, you bible thumping fool." Scrooge spat, "You wouldn't know a hard day's work if it ripped your silly masks off! The better for it, you live on donations and charity. Why don't you tear down that stupid cathedral you have and sell the stone if you so desperately want to give handouts to hobos and bums, hm?"

"How can you say such things on the Eve of Yule! It is the time of the year for generosity, Mr. Scrooge!"

"Yule..." Scrooge sneered, "Bah, humbug!" He made a dismissive motion, "Nothing but a cold snap that makes people want to steal from my purse. Bah humbug to the whole celebration! The whole month! The whole winter! Good Afternoon, ladies." He hobbled back and slammed his office door.

Bob finally lifted his head from the desk and dug about in his coat’s pockets.

Bob hopped off his chair and walked around the desk,  "I'm so... sorry about that." He whispered. "You should go... uhm, here." He took out a coin and slipped it into the little can Mel was holding. "I'm so so sorry."

"HUFF! What a terrible man! Noelle should curse him for his selfishness." Ina fumed. The steam coming off of her would have been visible if she had not been wearing a full body cloak.

"He's not that bad..." Bob whispered, "You just have to... get to know him a bit..." He looked incredulous of his own statement as he glanced back at the door to Scrooge's office.

"You have a good heart, Mr. Cratchit, dear." Ina said, looking down, "But - 'Do not waste what love you have on those who would not share it, or it will be lost', Lehsda 2:10." She opened the can and returned the coin, "I know you need this. Please give Tim my warmest for tomorrow. Merry Yule." She turned and left.

Mel and Mal stood silently for a bit before turning and leaving as well, trying to squeeze out the door despite it not being big enough for both of them at once. It took a while, and would have been humorous if Bob weren't already feeling the pressure of time. Eventually he just closed the door to force them out in one poff of collapsing into the street's snow.

A while back, quite a while now, I mentioned that Mira, the fantasy world in which this story takes place, has a ring. It's quite beautiful, especially now, at the very peak of night. The moon was high above, full and bright, you could almost see the shadow of Noelle's sled as her mythical wildcat pulled it through the stars... and that light unfortunately also hit Scrooge and Marley's.

The chill had set in quite a bit more, after a high in the 'good afternoon', it reached back down to grasp the hearts and hands of anyone unfortunate enough to be out in the streets.

Fires had been built in the alleys for beggars and stragglers in life to hobble around, eating what they had been tossed or found throughout the day. The singing of a child on the doorstep of Scrooge and Marley's ended quite abruptly when Scrooged asked (at a very high volume) for Bob to go grab the poker from the furnace.

Bob wasn't sure where that would be, or if they even had one, but it did indeed make that slight comforting distraction go away.

But now it was night. Cold, chilly, and Bob was putting away his things.

"Mr. Scrooge?" Bob said, walking towards the office door, "I'll uhm... be going home, now... Sir."

"Right." He said, "And you'll be wanting tomorrow off, I imagine?"

"Well... yes, sir..." Bob said, through the door. He took off his hat now, rotating it in his fingers as nervousness drove through his bones.

"Bah... and you think me not abused in such a way, a full day's pay for a no day's work..."

"It is... Yule, sir. After all." Bob said.

"Oh, and I'm certain that should I have my pocket picked once a year, I should be fine with that too? Just because it happens on the same day?"

"No, Mr. Scrooge."

"If you are to have the whole day, be earlier the next. Do not be late like this morning, Cratchit." The sounds of shuffling paper continued.

Bob stood at the office door. He stood there for quite a while. It felt like yule had come, gone, and then come again before the nerves had steeled themselves enough for him to reach out and open the office door.

"Yes?" Scrooge didn't look up.

"Mr. Scrooge- I... I feel I do a very fair share around here."

"Fair, hm?"

"And my notary work is quite the best I've seen, might I add! My shorthand is quick, and I'm very welcoming to our clients-"

"Did you come in here to brag, Crachit?" Scrooge asked, finally looking up at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, the ones he used to read the names of all the people he felt were stealing from him in one way or another.

"No, sir." Cratchit said. With all the bravery and backbone that the possibility of a ‘stern talking to' by his wife could muster, he said "I think I deserve a Raise, sir."

"A raise."

Bob didn't answer. He simply kept staring at Scrooge. As the seconds turned closer and closer to a minute of staring, the confidence began to melt. At the very least, he could see the wrinkles moving, he knew Scrooge was... thinking about it.

"Mm." Scrooge said, not dismissively nor very affirmatively, "Ask me again tomorrow." He pulled his abacus towards himself.

"Oh but, uh... Sir, tomorrow I'll be at home. It's Yule."

Scrooge scowled and made another show of moving his abacus before clasping his hands on his desk, "So you want a raise and a vacation?"

"Huh?"

"And then what will you do? Waste it on more... beggars like those shians from earlier? Hm?" He turned his cheek and smiled a sinister grin, then changed it to a scowl again, "If you want money, you work."

"Sir, tomorrow is Yule!"

"Bah humbug! Yule! A foolish holiday for foolish men!" He wagged his finger, "You want to squeeze any more cash out of me, you can come in tomorrow, or never come back! Charity Case Cratchit!"

"But sir! I have- I have another child on the way, I need the money!"

"Oh, so your inability to act like a person instead of a rabbit is now weighing on my pocketbook? I think not! You're lucky I don't dock your pay for tardiness."

"You do dock my pay for tardiness!" Bob said. He swallowed down what he was intending to say next, beating it back with as much of his humility as he could... but the dam had already been leaking, and it was time for it to break.

Scrooge watched what certainly wasn't a visible transformation, but one of atmosphere. It was difficult, however, so confided in his own world of misery to see the growth of rage in someone else's.

 Bob scrunched up his face, gripped his hat tight, then said, "Then good day to you, Scrooge! You can keep this job and... and shove it! You rotten old fool!"

"HAH!" Scrooge laughed, his unending snear tilting upward into a sadistic grin "Enjoy starving in the streets like those homeless you so do love so much then! Get out of my office!" He pointed beyond Bob.

Bob hopped past what he had always thought of his desk, and to the door.

For a brief moment, he stopped and turned his head. A thought of mercy, of care for the old man had almost breached his blind anger, but it found itself entering a tavern where the proprietor was less than thrilled to serve it.

He walked out, and slammed the door in his wake, hopping his way down the cold street.

He stopped a ways away, only about a block, and looked up to the shining moon. He frowned, staring up at the great glowing pearl in the sky, and the horizon itself glowing from the ring of his world. He twisted his hat a bit, and then put it onto his head again. He sighed, "Oh, Mr. Scrooge... why did I ever try to see the good in a man like you..." He continued hopping away. If he really was fired, he could save that news for after Yule.

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

Maybe some headcanons about early days of dating Jim Hopper? 👉👈 or maybe general dating... 🌺

nice idea!

i'm giving full warning that i went off and it got monster long and random but enjoy lovelies <3

dating headcanons + chief jim hopper~

🧡he's not a huge fan of overt pda, so straight off the bat the relationship would be lowkey

🧡if you were in the early stages, maybe some shared flirty looks and a hand to the mid of your back would be the go-to moves. not enough to draw obvious attention, but enough to let you know he's there, yk?

🧡although if you were more serious, some brushing up behind you; cuddling w your head in his arms; maybe some lil not so secret makeouts at work would be his jam too

🧡i think depending on who you were/how you met, the dates would range too. coworker? mostly some back and forth flirting on the job; some sarcastic phrases, a couple of "well.. we'll see 'bout that sweetie", and many an "i told you so.. goddamn it"s.

🧡ofc he'd only love it more when you retorted with an equally sassy remark, but a small blush and "pfft" would be enough to keep him satisfied with the chill dating atmos tbh

🧡likely nicknames too. 'sugar', 'doll' are usually the common day-to-day ones, but also an occasional sarcastic 'sweetie' when he's caught u out about something, or is trying to win an argument would happen too

🧡if you happened to meet in a different context, without a preexisting relationship, i'd imagine some more formal 'date' dates,

🧡maybe a classic dinner and a movie, bc he's been out of the dating game for a while, and references back to like lowkey 70s dating almost solely the cutepie

🧡could also be an event; maybe an annual hawkins celebration of some kind, or maybe a holiday like halloween. something that's like a "well, i've gotta go anyway, so idgaf if you do or don't but like, i'm down if u are, but i also don't care, but pls go i love u" kind of vibe;

🧡he's ultimately a little insecure about putting his heart on the line, so honestly, i think he'd dig if you took charge and let him know what you'd like to do too

🧡as long as he can spend time with you, and you're comfortable enough to open up to him (and him you, which is relatively easy, bc his personality changes for legit no one), he's pretty content with any kind of date although hopefully something with less physical exertion, and more eating and shitting on things that piss him off lmao

🧡once you're past the more formal dating zone, there's likely a lot of car drives into the country, listening to his favourite tunes; he'd love to share music taste with you, and would ofc be up for a big debate over who reigns supreme in the soft!rock and jazz genres

🧡lots of stopping for ice cream, maybe some strolls or sitting at park benches when he's got days off;

🧡a lot of him taking charge if walking in the forest too, bc he wants to be 'manly' and forge a path w his big man boots. also swatting away flies w his hat bc he's the size of a literal giant and it's not only you who digs his enormous stature, ur now also competing w the wildlife

🧡if not, then usually on rainy days in, a date would consist of laying on the couch, watching a couple movies and cuddling together but don't tell anyone bc he needs to be big scary cop man grr grr

🧡depending on his comfort level with you, he'd either be lowkey chatty, or more quiet and introspective. the occasional reminiscing of old memories, maybe sharing an anecdote or two, but not a lot of wordy convos much of the time

🧡if he's feeling extra social, he may just flip the convo on you and ask you a bunch of questions, being a surprisingly good, intent and caring listener when he's feeling more lowkey.

🧡and ofc, he'd love nothing more than to see you get angry abt something and help you shit on it like crazy, just getting it all out and vibing with that emotional catharsis, bc the one emotion he does do well expressing is anger lmao

🧡i see him as more of a doer than a thinker; like, he doesn't dig getting bogged down in his past trauma with anyone else tbh. maybe late 2am chats when he can't sleep, and feels extra vulnerable you could get some deeply personal, nostalgic energy, but other than that he'd rather say nothing that say something all heavy and emotional

🧡bc of this, during dating and his relationship, i think he's express those internal sentiments w a lot of projecting his issues onto observations about others tbh;

🧡likely via people watching, ranting about others, and ofc movies too. "well, of course she cheated on him. he's barely home, and would rather work all day.", "yeah, i call bullshit on that", "no, i don't buy that for a second.", "yeah..NO"-type phrases, yk?

is also a pretty big fan of reality tv and survivalist movies/tv shows, but u didn't hear that from me.

🧡a lot of talking him down and lowkey deescalating when ur watching movies or talking about the news; bc he'll either give up and get pissed before listening to the end of your story, or he'll get riled up and go on a mini-hop!rant; i.e. that's why your convos are usually about doing things as opposed to exploring ideas and hypotheticals, lmao

🧡i feel like despite being the one to broach the dating situ, he'd be a little more wary of going right in feeling-wise

🧡he likes you, sure, but he's not about to dump his whole heart and soul into a relationship that could end in heartbreak, but deep down, he's a big ole' teddybear y'all we know this don't lie

🧡although if he did end up trusting you and wanting to take things further, he'd eventually just come out and say it

🧡i don't think he's one for keeping everything pent up, and keeping secrets. if he has something to say, he'll legit just say it

🧡he's a big flower guy too i think. although he does this cool hop!man thing, where he buys flower types not based on what he assumes you'll like, but, like, just what he likes. he lowkey sees it like buying anything else, except for you

🧡so..toilet paper, he's getting the soft obv; beer, he's buying his fave brand bc ofc ??; likewise, flowers, he's getting pansies or some yellow shit bc yellow is his fave colour, so you probably like it too, right ??

🧡like, he just works in that steam-roll kind of way, where he doesn't overthink things. there are like 2-3 max steps to any action in his life. any more, and he's legit not doing it, or smushing it right back into 2-3 steps

🧡once you've been dating for a while, it becomes apparent that he's not a dating guy though. he's not for going all around town, serial dating or meeting a bunch of different people. he's not casting a wide net, like at all

🧡he settles quick into the relationship part of dating. stopping off at his house w groceries is like a normal thing for him. cooking him a meal, and bringing some to his work is kind of a given after a while

(highkey he loves packed lunchboxes; like, a little note w a smiley face, some apple slices and a sandwich cut into triangles is his JAM fight me bc he's a big softie and i now choose this as canon)

🧡same with just meeting after work, or school or whatever, and just going to his or your place. 'date' dates soon fall out of fashion, bc i think he sees it as more of a courting thing than a long-term vibe

🧡just chilling and feeling at ease with each other is more his thing tbh. he likes you, so he dgaf where you two go, as long as you're both happy and chill.

🧡like i said, and maybe it's a little too boring for some, but legit going back to his place, lying on the couch or in bed, eating, fucking and sleeping is probs an ideal end/beginning of the day for him,

🧡doesn't have to be more complicated than that

🧡he's had to deal with nuance to hell w his past relationships, and his work gets arduous trying to figure out the mysteries of demogorgons and a bald and american millie bobby brown

🧡he's just here to date u and chill, he needs some good beer, a cuddly partner and a day off and he's a happy camper ngl

hope u enjoyed lovelies! i dug this prompt omgbrcat, thanks for requesting. :)

also, feel like requesting too? here's the link, i'd love to hear it!

[what-gs-watching]

"Denial. It's amazing how far you can get on denial."

Gang, thinking about my career journey and where I want to go next and how to get all of my experience into a cohesive situation is tiring. Am I in the right place for that emotionally? Not really but if someone doesn’t make me do it, I never will. So career coaching is a thing, and I’m doing it.

But I’m also still hunkering down in content because that’s just what ya do. So I burned through the entirety of Fall of the House of Usher because I have a thing for Mike Flanagan and Edgar Allen Poe and…

Woooooof, y’all. 

Wherein, an entire family headed up by Roderick Usher, CEO of a pharmaceutical company, and his conniving sister, starts biting it, while Roderick &Co is being prosecuted for doing shady corporate shit. Told through that classic trope of one person confessing to another over a glass of good liquor. 

Do you want to watch a bunch of terrible people die horribly? Yes? Then this is for you. 

Listen, I’m gonna watch almost anything, so I sat down and did the first two episodes in a row, and then I realized I probably could only handle one a day. 

I’m not HUGE on scary movies, I can get into some of them but I’m not like, entirely bloodthirsty. Maybe a little bloodthirsty. And this show definitely has that. Practically chemically melting a party full of people, for  longer than necessary? That’s what got me. Just me on the couch yelling “DAMN, DUDE!”

Also, my brain was all like ‘I’m totally gonna get all the Poe references, I wrote a paper on him in college, I’m with it’ but I really was not. There is a TON in the show and they did a good job of pulling elements from his work and I’m pretty sure it goes a lot deeper than I picked up on. I’m sure there’s someone out there that has dug into this, but it ain’t me - my brain is still on an EXTREMELY low simmer. So, if you’re a literature nerd, there’s good shit in there for you, but I can’t explain it (my english degree is glaring at me in disappointment, I can feel it). And only if you’re cool with some gore. 

I will say, they do make you feel like shit about the world we have built, and for good reason. Society does feel like a bunch of starving, drugged up consumers, but also, the Ushers are the monsters that have helped make us this way. At least we can feel good about a fictional asshole that helped stoke the opioid epidemic getting his comeuppance. 

The ‘reveal’ is pretty straight forward if you’d been paying attention, or maybe it’s because I’ve watched entirely too much Supernatural, that’s possible. My husband’s manager was watching at the same time and shared her theory at one point which was so off the money, it was adorable. She hated every second of it, she thought it was an intriguing family drama, but then she was too far in and couldn’t stop. My guess is other people got roped in that way too. JUST KIDDING! Enjoy some death scenes that are going to make you feel ways about stuff. 

The one that cut me the most was Victorine, I couldn’t figure out how the shadowy figure that’d been following them was going to work into it but she barely had to do anything at all. Determination and outward pressure and the belief that what you’re doing is going to help people, is a hell of a drug. Especially when you’re willing to do anything to get what you want. That bish was trying to do something that would be good for humanity, but her family was poison and it poisoned her too and she downright fucking lost it. And it was the only situation Roderick got to see with his own eyes. That shit was a gut punch.

Was it as good as Haunting of Hill House? No, but it was good. And worth a watch, if you enjoy a twisted, brutal death (or eight). 

All in all, I hope Mike Flanagan keeps ‘em coming. Sometimes, it’s just nice to watch fucked up people get what they deserve.

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

This Friday we're going to do something a bit different. While I feel that the film is plenty famous enough on its own, I do think that I have a few things I'd like to say about the weird and wonderful little thing, so without further ado

For the uninitiated, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a 1975 cult classic horror/sci-fi movie based on the British indie musical darling The Rocky Horror Show. Apart from featuring some great turns from a young Susan Sarandon and Barry Bostwick and a brief cameo from singer Meatloaf, the movie is probably best known for its outrageous campy nature and Tim Curry delivering a career-defining role as the charismatic showboating alien scientist Dr. Frank-N-Further.

The biggest thing keeping Rocky Horror in the minds of the world is probably the midnight showings, noisy, nerdy, horny affairs where fans dress up like their favorite characters in various states of undress, yell zingers and in-jokes at the screen to fill in the movie's many long pauses, throw and otherwise utilize any number of zany props and on occasion get on stage to act out their favorite moments. It's a raucous good time that allows one to simultaneously make fun of and glorify this outrageous movie, and these nights are often my favorite of the year.

It is, however, not the midnight showings I want to talk about today, at least not directly. For this year's outing, me and my usual crew brought some fresh faces along. One question that popped up was "What is this movie about?" Much to my surprise, that got me thinking. I mostly answer that question with "Sci-Fi throwbacks and fishnet stockings," but if I were to not be pithy and in-jokey and silly about the whole thing, what would I actually say?

The plot, such as it is, follows Brad and Janet, a straight-laced couple who stumble into the clutches of mad scientist and impeccable dresser Dr. Frank-n-Further and spend the rest of the movie being caught up in the machinations and seductions of this unique individual who, it turns out, is actually an alien in exile from his home planet of Transexual in the solar system, or galaxy, Transylvania.

So, not the most elaborate plot there, but the real twists and turns come in the form of relations. Frank is a man, as occasional narrator The Criminologist so aptly put it, of some persuasion and little moral, and so his list of jilted lovers starts long and continue growing as the movie goes on. You could argue acts 2 and 3, to the degree that they exist in this movie is all about Frank expanding the list of people he has fucked over and it coming back to bite him from an unexpected angle. In this interpretation, Brad and Janet are just a window into this and two more notches to Frank's poor bedposts that surely are more notch than post at this point.

Yes, it does seem unavoidable that RHPS becomes a story about Frank. He is simply too much of a gravity well of charisma and madness, and it's not just that Frank is known to murder anyone who dares upstage him. Frank is, if I may speak frankly, too much fun to not pay attention to. He's witty, he's outrageous, he wears his oversized all-eyes-on-me ego with pride and boy howdy does he wear it well.

And yet, there's no denying Frank is kind of a shit. He's not receptive to the needs of others, he has a somewhat limited understanding of consent, he's a jerk to his employees, there's the whole murder business, he seems unable to comprehend that other people do not live to fulfill his needs. Despite all of this, though, it's hard to not be swept up in his charisma, and, at least for as long as "I'm Going Home" plays, see him as some sort of tragically beautiful intergalactic diva.

All of this, mind you, is even without getting into the Universal Movie Monsters comparison, where Frank occupies this strange space between Victor Frankenstein and Dracula. The Frankenstein comparison comes easy, his castel-like abode is referred to as "The Frankenstein Place," as well as how he creates a living being who he all but abandons afterwards. In presentation, though, Frank seems more Dracula-esque, his initial appearence especially serving some kind of sexed-up Lugosi Dracula. There is also how Frank's greatest power arguably is his sex appeal, and how he's surrounded by hotties who he for some reason has decided he's done with. In death, Frank arguably becomes something more of a Fay Wray in King Kong, but honestly tracking what sort of silver screen icon Frank is emulating in any giving scene sounds like too big of a project for this already kind of bulky film post, so that'll go on the "to write later"-pile.

[princesssarisa]

7-questions ask: Quasimodo

These answers are for the Disney version because I haven't read the original novel.

Three facts about them from my personal headcanons.

The Romani man who holds Quasimodo's mother protectively in the prologue isn't his father. He's his uncle, his mother's brother. His father was a white Frenchman, and his mother had some mixed race ancestry too, which explains why he's pale-skinned, red-haired and blue-eyed despite having a dark-skinned, dark-haired Romani mother.

For the first few years of his childhood, he was cared for by a nurse, who breastfed him as a baby and handled all the main business of childcare, while Frollo mainly served as his educator. Frollo dismissed her when Quasi was five or six years old because she "wasn't needed anymore," but her kindness and gentleness were a lifelong influence on Quasi. After he joins the outside world, he might find her again and thank her.

He's going to find that he misses Frollo sometimes, even though he knows he was a monster. He was still the only father figure Quasi ever knew.

A reason they suck:

The fact that at first he refuses to join Phoebus in setting out to warn Esmeralda about Frollo's pending attack on the Court of Miracles. I want to believe he mainly refuses out of fear, both of Frollo and of leaving the cathedral again, with slight subtext of "Phoebus will find her without me and he's the one she loves anyway." But the other possible reading is that for a few moments, he almost wants to let Esmeralda be caught by Frollo because he's bitter that she doesn't love him romantically.

A reason they are great:

His kindness, tenderness, and deep feeling, combined with incredible courage when he overcomes his insecurities.

A reason I relate to them:

I've also felt like a strange, awkward misfit at times.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character:

I don't really ship him with anyone romantically. Not until he's had more time to heal from Frollo's emotional abuse. Yes, I do know about Madellaine in the sequel, but I haven't actually seen the sequel and I don't count it as canon. I ship him with happiness, and platonically with Esmeralda and Phoebus as a found family.

Five things that never happened to the character that I believe should have happened:

That the movie made it clearer that his three gargoyle friends are figments of his imagination. Then their presence would feel less like jarring, tacked-on "kid appeal."

That the Archdeacon had taken more of a role in helping to raise him and helped to counteract Frollo's abuse.

That he had managed to stay out of sight and not been crowned King of Fools at the festival, so he wouldn't have been abused by the crowd. (Of course there would be no plot then.)

That Esmeralda hadn't kissed his cheek after he helped her escape from the cathedral. She meant it as platonic affection, but it gave him false hope.

This applies to all versions of the character, not just Disney's – that pop culture would stop treating him as a "classic horror icon" just because he's deformed. He's not a horror character.

Five people that character never fell in love with and why.

Phoebus. Maybe it could have happened if he were gay or bi, but he's straight.

Clopin. See above.

Frollo. Even if he were attracted to men, and even if Frollo weren't evil and Quasimodo's abuser, it would feel like parental incest!

Laverne the gargoyle. Even though she's the only "woman" he's known through most of his life, (a) she's an old crone, and (b) she's not human.

Belle from Beauty and the Beast. While they would probably have liked each other if they had met, she lives at least 320 years after his time. (I suspect that "Belle's" cameo appearance during "Out There," is really an ancestress of hers.)

[saucy-mesothelioma]

What's your favourite movie? Or movies that you think are great enough to watch at least once?

Oh boy, here we go. As much as I fuckin adore so many different movies for many different reasons, I'll keep it short and only do my absolute top favorites and why.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit: Yes it's technically a kid's movie, but it doesn't feel like it. This movie quickly became one of my favorites not just because of how fun it is to watch, but the blend of 2d animation and live action was basically revolutionary and has never been replicated to this level. If you ever watch this movie, definitely look at some behind the scenes footage because there's so much that went into this utter masterpiece. I adore absolutely everything about this movie.

Jurassic Park: This is just one of those movies that is an absolute requirement for any movie fan. The score, the practical effects, the sound design; it's all a masterpiece and continues to stand the test of time. Out of all of Stephen Spielberg's movies, I feel like this one is his best.

The Thing (1982): Let it be known to the world that this has one of the greatest uses of practical effects in any movie I've ever seen. It's practically all animatronics (beautiful ones at that), and this movie perfectly encapsulates the feeling of utter dread and uncertainty of the horror genre. The prequel comes nowhere near this utter masterpiece, and the only movie I've seen that does terror over horror this well has been

Nope: I won't say much about this movie because this is something better experienced for oneself, but it's the only other movie in my opinion that does terror perfectly in a movie. Horror is like opening the door and seeing the monster outside in the flesh, whereas terror is knowing that the monster is there, but that's all you know. That's what Nope is.

The Muppet Movie: A classic that never goes out of style. Nobody does meta humor like the Muppets, and this movie is just a huge comfort film to me. I've always been a big Jim Henson fan and this movie always manages to make me feel at home.

And my last one, The Straight Story: Funny haha name aside, this movie is so underrated and I absolutely love it. It's based on the true story of Alvin Straight, who traveled 200 miles on a riding mower to visit his sick brother. It's a slow movie, but sometimes that's the kind of movie you need. It's calm, sweet, and just a good movie to enjoy when you need something to just relax with.

[blueberry-lemon]

Shouting Into The Void About: Battle Kitty

Battle Kitty is an animated show now on Netflix. It was created by Matt Layzell.

Battle Kitty is an absolute gem of a show. It’s about Kitty, an adventurous and powerful fighter, and Orc, their timid supporter-class friend, battling huge monsters on a place called “Battle Island.” It is extremely video gamey, in a similar way to shows like Adventure Time, Regular Show, and Steven Universe being clearly inspired by the writers’ experience with games. The show doesn’t have pop culture references or anything like that, but the entire world feels straight out of a cult classic Nintendo Wii game you’d watch a 2 hour Youtube essay about.

To complete the illusion, Battle Kitty is one of Netflix’s Interactive Specials. Most Interactive Specials on Netflix have approached it as a means to making “Choose Your Own Adventure” shows that pause the action for a branching path. Battle Kitty takes a different approach.

Instead, the whole season of the show is laid out on an overworld map, similar to Super Mario World. To progress from episode to episode, you find bosses and defeat them to get their keys. Along the way, there are optional nodes off the beaten path that represent little shorts (these optional shorts are usually 1-to-5 minutes long) that you can watch if you’d like. I really loved that they include the duration of how long each short or episode is, so that you know if you have enough free time to dive into it without having to pause and step away.

The animation and sense of humor are EXTREMELY high energy and chaotic in a way that I love. This show, unironically, has some of the best 3D animation I’ve seen in any television show, period. They have such a clear understanding of how to animate in a way that is funny, makes for incredible fight sequences, and also flows exactly like how a Nintendo game would flow. It’s very far away from the “Pixar” type of style that many movies have aimed for.

Because of the nature of Netflix, this show will probably not get a run of marketing again, but I highly recommend you check it out. It’s one of my favorite shows on the platform. And now it already feels like a forgotten Nintendo cult classic in my brain.