#goddamn the art in this movie is just MM good

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #235

“the monster you made is wearing the crown; i’ll be the king and you be the clown.”

What is your favorite move franchise? The Lion King. What was the last fast food you ate? I had a hot dog from Sonic and one of those pretzel twists things. What is the saddest book you’ve ever read? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. Do you prefer heroes or villains? Villains. Duh. They're like, always more interesting. What is something you think is overrated? Uhhh coffee, for one. But like what you like. What political cause are you most passionate about? Gay rights. What country would you most like to visit? South Africa. Have you ever considered having children? Literally the only period where I wanted kids was later into Jason's and my relationship. Hell, I wanted three while he was always like "onLY TWO." Now, I don't want a single one, ever. I would be an awful mother for many reasons. If you ever took field trips as a child, which was your favorite? The zoo with Dad, my then-best friend, and her mom. One and only time I've seen meerkats. I was so excited I almost cried. Do you have any weird family traditions? It's not like, a tradition, I think, but we have a unique thing where saying "I love you mostest period" is something Mom, Dad, and my sisters have used for all my life. It's a way of saying "I love you more than you could ever love me, no arguments." Now Sara's been dragged into it lmao. Have you ever considered acting? Nope. Who was the last person you slept next to? Sara. Do you think you can be in love and still cheat on your S.O.? You can't "be in love" with a person and fucking cheat on them, no. Do you subscribe to any streaming services? We have Netflix. Idk about anything else. Have you ever been in a physical fight? No. What is the most embarrassing thing anyone has on video of you? I don't even wanna know. Did you ever get lost as a child? Yep, in a Wal-Mart lmao. This old lady helped me find my fam. What is your favorite condiment? Honey mustard. Or ketchup. Depends. Have you ever had an existential crisis? Very surprisingly, not really. Do you like country music? Begone, demon. It's still so weird to me that I loved it as a kid, but I really just grew up with it. What color are the eyes of the person you love? Brown. What is your favorite kind of flower? I looooove orchids. What town were you born in? Not the best thing to share on the Internet, eh? Do you know how to play any card games? I only vaguely understood/understand Magic: The Gathering. It's honestly really fun, but very complex in rules. It was Jason's thing so he got me into it. I miss my PS3 working because I used to have the "Duels of the Planeswalkers" on there, and doing it digitally is much easier and helpful. I loved it mostly because the art is fucking incredible. It was an old little aspiration to wind up designing the art some day and I don't think I ever saw Jason more excited. What is something about your childhood that you miss? Being more into video games than I am now alskdjf;awe. I'm more of a viewer of let's plays now than an active gamer; meanwhile, as a kid, video games were my favorite things in the world. Did you ever have MySpace? Do you miss those days? Yeah, I had one. Honestly though I can barely remember it (other than the song on my page was "Pocketful of Sunshime" lmaooooo as well meerkat-flooded), so it doesn't matter. What is the best television show you’ve ever watched? Meerkat Manor is my favorite show of all time, but as a proper show could have been better. AP made up their own shit and deviated from the KMP facts A LOT (guess what: Mozart killed a competitor's litter before; not exactly MM's her, right?), and not only was that confusing, but just annoying. Give me the real shit; don't just tweak stuff for dramatic effect. I could list a novel of lies in the series. Now, what I feel is the best show without a meerkat bias and just has an overall good plot. I kinda wanna say Supernatural, but the boys dying five million times got old. Possibly Fullmetal Alchemist. Are there any songs you can’t listen to because they bring back memories? I 110% refuse to hear "Stairway to Heaven." Have you ever saved someone’s life? Funny this is brought up after recent events. My sweetheart online bud had a cerebral aneurysm while having an extremely difficult time talking to me, and no one was home quite yet. Her final message was concerning and she didn't reply to me for a while, so I wound up messaging her again after a bit, and her boyfriend heard the b.net notification sound. Saw it was me and asked what was up. Told him, and he figured out she wasn't sleeping on the couch, she was passed out. He told me he never would have known if I hadn't said something. So does that count, even though I didn't like, physically save her? Have you ever broken any major bones? No. Are there any websites you’ve used for over 10 years? Good question? Idk. WAIT HOLD THE FUCK UP, KM's 10th birthday is coming up real soon. Wow. I know YouTube has been much longer. Idr when I joined deviantART. Maybe there's more, I dunno. Do you have any siblings? If so, what are their ages? My two immediate are 22 (ew) and 26 (double ew). Anything exciting taking place today? No, today was A N X I E T Y !! ! ! !! !! What are you craving? Okay so I have been MEGA in "the mood" lately and it's frustrating especially because I don't masturbate so I have like nO OUTLET. Who did you last hit? Nobody saving for when I was a kid repeatedly slapped my sister's arm for doing something I don't remember. How do you do in school? It depends on the subject, but in anything, I am a MASSIVE procrastinator, and I need to fix that. Schoolwork, good good, homework in the library, good good, but when I'm at home, I cannot seem to convince myself to work. As Sara puts it, home is like my "safe" place, and I don't want to bring school into it. Adjusting to school life again after like... two whole years or so of doing NOTHING at all, almost every day all day, is very difficult. I'm SO glad I picked school again, it's just a lot for a person who was so isolated and void of responsibilities to get used to. What’s your biggest goal? Right now, continue to improve my mental health. Fight social anxiety and AvPD. Who have you texted today? Just Sara. Who do you aspire to be like when you grow up? In most ways, especially in kindness, wisdom, relentless determination, passion, creativity, etc. etc. etc. etc., Mark. I think it's obvious he's Role-Model #1. I would loooove to be like Jane Goddall and Steve Irwin, too, feeling with such ferocious potency for animals and how they should be respected and loved. UM AND ALSO, EUGENIA COONEY IS THE SWEETEST PERSON ON THE ENTIRE GODDAMN EARTH AND I WOULD LOVE TO BE AS FRIENDLY AND PRECIOUS AS SHE IS. Oh, and then there's Shane Dawson. I relate to him SO much. He is the most selfless angel that seems SO down-to-earth and relatable as hell. I feel like he could be like, my best friend. Ahhhhhhh there are so many more, I love talking about my inspirations, but I'll chill here. Do you know if you want to go to college or not? I'm in college right now, and I desperately want it to stay that way. I'm fucking going somewhere in my life, and the education it provides will bring me closer to that. College is far from mandatory for everyone, but I feel it is beneficial for me. Do you like grapefruits? I haven't had one in a LONG time, so I don't really remember how they taste. I just know sour. What do you think of guys who wear eyeliner? *drools in Darkiplier* the fuck do you think Do you like online games? Only World of Warcraft, really. Who’s one person you care about more than yourself? Okay, real talk, and I hope this is everybody's answer. No one. I'm putting my goddamn self and my mental peace first for the rest of my life. Are there any pets you’re wishing for? I want another ball python. When’s the last time you used hand sanitizer? Two days ago when Mom and I stopped somewhere to eat. Wearing anything that isn’t yours? No. What type of bread did you use on the last sandwich you made? White. How many doors are in your house? Uhhh six. What was the last compliment you received, that made you smile? Sara said she was really proud of me, and to me, that's one of the biggest compliments you CAN give me. Think you need to lose weight? How much? ugh When was the last time you watched a VHS movie? I don't have a clue. We kept our VHS longer than most, though. We had too many movies on it. What event would you go back in time to see, if you could? Ummmm I dunno. Do you remember the last thing you said you wanted? To hug Sara. Who was the last friend you hung out with&what’d you do together? Sara stayed for a week. We did a lot. Who is the person, other than a spouse, that you are closest to? Sara. If you watched it, who was your favorite Hey Arnold! character? Oh my god, I hated that stupid show, but one of my sisters liked it. Have any good school pictures? or do they all just suck? There is literally ONE picture from elementary school where I think I looked pretty. Do you like trying on clothes or not? & Why? NO. I try to avoid it if I can. It's just annoying to change clothes for like five seconds. What are your thoughts on marriage? It's sweet, but I've come to find it... kinda needless for the most part? Like I know it has financial pluses and the symbolism is beautiful, but it's just that: symbolism originating from fantasies (imo, don't scream at me). It only adds pressure to stay in a dying relationship and makes splitting much more complicated. BUT, even with all that said, I personally want to get married someday, but only if I am *sure* about this person. It's the symbolism I like. That and it's so ingrained into my head that that's the "end goal" of relationships, so I'm pretty much just conditioned to want it. How long have you lived in the current place you’re living? Two years. Do you plan on moving anytime soon, if so where? I want to, but I am not in the financial position or at a level of independence where I'm ready for that. Are you more of a follower, or a leader? Be honest. This may alter with the situation, but mostly, I'm definitely a follower. Are your dreams/nightmares in black&white or color? I've heard of this condition before and it really intrigues me. I dream in color. Have you ever wanted to be some sort of hero outside of video games? I mean, define "hero." Like an action superhero in a literal way, nooooo. I'd die on Day #1, lmao. As a hero/inspiration as a person, of course; who doesn't? Will you admit that you’re at least somewhat superficial? I mean, probably in some places? How often do you go to the mall closest to you? Almost never ever. Our mall sucks and has experienced too many shootings. Do you still count with your fingers, even if only every so often? Yep. Like, always. Have you ever gone on a road trip with just friends? No. Well, I went to the beach with my friend and her mom, but just for a day or two because my separation anxiety from Mom got too bad oof. Without trying, do you act differently around different friends? Depends on the friend. I don't "fake it," just how reserved I am can move around. What was the last thing you drew/wrote on your own or someone else's skin? Probably a butterfly on my wrists when I was actively part of the Butterfly Project community. The last time you spent money, what was it on & how much did you spend? $1.25 for a drink at school. What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on one piece of clothing? Idk, but definitely not a lot. In elementary school, were you more of the bully or the bullied? Thankfully, neither. Do you like when a spouse is clingy, or can you not stand that? I'm sure to a certain degree it would be annoying, but for the most part, hell, I think it's attractive. Especially since I NEED validation you like me. How much do you say you walk in a week outside of school &/or work? Just around my house if you exclude school. Is there anything you wish your parents did differently in raising you? I wish they'd given us chores. Wish Mom didn't spank us. What would you do if the last person you texted asked you out? Lol yo we JUST broke up like an hour ago. We're not ready to get back together yet, obviously. Don't worry a bit, we're both cool. Still best friends, even. To compress a long story, needed personal growth and distance have brought us to returning to just friends. For now, at least. Have you ever received a scholarship? I think so... but not like a huge one, I believe. Who was the last person who got frustrated with you? Most likely Mom. When was the last time you mopped your kitchen floor? I myself have never mopped it. Or maybe once. What is your favorite work of art? I mentioned the Denialism painting in my last survey. What was the last appointment or plan you had to cancel? Plan, my next one with my psychiatrist. What spur-of-the-moment decision that you’ve made has had the biggest impact on your life? I don't know if any have truly changed my life. The ones that did (that I remember) were pondered over. Do you know anyone who is (or has been) a refugee? I don't think so, What is your best friend’s worst habit? She doesn't have faith in herself for ANYTHING lj;ljalwie Do you like spinach and artichoke dip? alksd;fjwei no Have you ever felt like you were about to pass out, but didn’t? Yep, a couple times. What was the name of one of your childhood imaginary friends? I didn't have any. What’s your favorite phase of the moon? Full. Do you wish you were richer? I physically refuse to be anything less than stable, hopefully even above that, once I'm independent. We've been poor all my life and it is fuck-ing HARD. It's stressful as a motherfucker and I am done with it. Very. What’s a middle name you like? Quinn. Fits a lot. I planned on giving that middle name to my hypothetical daughter. Are you scared of spiders? y e a h Do you weigh the same as your mom? No. Were you a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan? Like the average 90s/early 2000s kid. Coffee mugs, teacups, or water bottles? Uh, aesthetically? Teacups, probably. Bubblegum or cotton candy? Gum. I like the taste and texture of cotton candy, it is just RIDICULOUSLY sweet. It bothers my sensitive teeth sometimes. Do you prefer to drink soda from cans, bottles or cups? Cans. They get the coldest. Game you were best at in P.E./gym? Idk, I didn't excel at any. What do you have for breakfast on an average day? I'll typically just have a meal replacement shake or a Pop-Tart. Favorite non-chocolate candy? Sour Punch Straws (gotta be red). Favorite book you had to read for school? The Outsiders. Most frequently worn pair of shoes? My flip-flops, 'cuz they're easy to just slip on. Ideal weather? Cool but not windy (a light breeze is fine) with a partly-cloudy sky. Obsession from childhood? Webkinz. Favorite crystal? Dragon's breath opal. Favorite activity to do in warm weather? Swim or stay the fuck inside. Favorite activity to do in cold weather? Taking pictures in the snow. Five songs to describe you? "Get Up" by Mother Mother, "That's What You Get" by Paramore, uhhh... I don't feel like thinking over this any longer. My iPod isn't near me to scan through what I have, so yeah. Best way for someone to bond with you? Let's have deep philosophical talks about like the meaning of life 'n shit. Top 5 favorite Vines? Oh my god, this is impossible. To name some that come to mind first, in no order: "It's Wednesday, m'dudes *insert mating call*", "I cOUld'vE dROPPED My croiSSANt," "this is why mom doesn't FUCKING LOVE YOU," that one at a club where a girl is doing smoke tricks and the dude just goes "check that out" (or "wow," idr) or something similar (I couldn't find it), and omfg I adore that Snoop Dogg one with the little boy just semi-dancing to that iconic song???? I LOVE IT??????? Man, there are so so many more. Very honorable mention: "a d a m". Ads you have stuck in your head? None, thankfully. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Uhhh maybe Happy Bunny? Idk. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite type of cheese? American. What saying or quote do you live by? There's a lot I've picked up on and cling to. #1 is perhaps "Deal with life, or life deals with you." What are you currently stressed about? Some... things I realized about myself that disgust me. Favorite fairy tale? Shrek is a goddamn fairy tale and I will fight to the death against anyone who claims otherwise. Favorite tradition? I don't really have one anymore, but I remember as a kid, I would NEVER let Mom forget to throw some "reindeer food" outside for them lol. Talent you’re proud of having? One that warrants pride, exactly? Not just random talents? Well, uhhh. I suppose writing. I mean it modestly, I really do, but as a kid, my teachers all the way through high school always thought I was cheating or a parent did my papers at home. Some were only convinced by me writing in the classroom. I don't feel as good about my writing as I did in high school, but I am sill proud of excelling in it and taking writing anywhere seriously. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? I mean, name the game and genre here. Probably like "what the fuck" at like, everything, because I already do that. If you were an anime character, what genre of anime would it be? Like, based on my current life? I dunno. A sad and repetitive one with some bright days to it. Ohhh, and the color scheme and lighting vary with my mental state. Yo that would be dope. Character you relate to? lmao THRALL from WoW for being like "can y'all bastards just chill tf out" until he goes off to an isolated land away from civilization bc he's seen enough shit. Also compelled to help. Any good luck charms? I don't believe in those. Least favorite flavor of food or drink? As far as consistent flavors go, normally cherry or grape. Left or right handed? I'm a righty. Favorite potato food? Fries, when I wish they weren't. Earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? Literally just Mom's. Not even mine.

[burlybanner]

Drip (ScienceBrosWeek, 2019)

Second verse, same as the first.

Summary: Peering deep into the rabbit hole carries serious penalties.

Disclaimer: Again, this is different from my usual style and I’m not sure where this story is going. So I’m not sure when I’ll continue. But keep me honest; it’ll happen eventually.

Unbeta’d, same ol’ song.

Part 1 here. **

The ride down should’ve frightened Bruce more than it did. Maybe he was dissociating because it reminded him of too many things. Down, down they went. When he looked up, the opening from the ceiling shrank as they descended into the dark, the lips of the opening closing as slowly as they sank. But Bruce was more curious than anything; Clint had pressed one of the three buttons near his hip, but continued to flip through his magazine as if he could care less about his passengers. How could he see in the growing dark? Maybe he didn’t care; maybe that was part of his job, to appear unassuming. 

He heard a sudden clank with the hydraulic elevator hum, and eerie pops and pings ramped his anxiety. Seconds passed before he noticed strings of  industrial fairy lights waking up, welcoming them as they plunged into the deep. His anxiety flickered with the bulbs, ebbing and flowing as they pulsed on the dank dolostone like lightning bugs. He’d always liked lightning bugs. He hadn’t seen any in years; he wondered if they still existed. 

“Hey. You with me?”

Tony’s voice, although a whisper, still echoed against the slick walls. Drips of karst water fell off the sides and disappeared into the ether. Somewhere in the distance he heard a drip-drip-kerplunk, another forgotten echo in a forbidden cavern.

“Always,” Bruce spat out, but Tony fumbled for his fingers anyway. It was just enough to shock him, something he loved and hated.

The platform screeched. Bruce wasn’t sure why he’d thought they’d be in some  techo marvel of an elevator, like ones in the movies. He also didn’t think they’d be in some ridiculously slow mine elevator, either.

“Okay,” Clint finally said. The elevator rattled, bouncing to a stop. “First floor, ladies.”

“Really?” 

“I call ‘em as I see ‘em.” Tony rolled his eyes as Clint turned a key and pressed another elevator button. The button glowed, maybe reading his thumbprint - hell, what did he know - and the gate squawked open. “This is where you get off.” Clint chuckled.

“I swear, Barton--”

“Sorry. But hey, it’s boring today. A guy’s gotta have fun wherever he can find it.”

“Never mind.” Tony didn’t seem too put out but he grabbed Bruce’s hand tighter and dragged him from the lift before it slowly ascended to heaven, with Clint safely tucked inside. Bruce blinked. He hadn’t seen the small bridge until now. A small walking bridge, joining the lift platform to another section of the cave. 

“We’re gettin’ there.”

“Mm.” One foot. Two feet. Three--

“Hey. Can you do one more elevator?”

“Sure.”

He accidentally peered over the sides of the bridge before they were done walking; it was a long way down. A very long way. And Bruce wasn’t sure why Tony’s hand was so tight. He’d never grabbed his hand so tightly before. Wait, no. He had. But--

Blinking, Bruce felt his heart rate slow down. The lights were brighter, calming now. “Hm. We’re in a normal elevator.”

“He lives,” Tony crowed. “Astute as always, Dr. Banner.”

“Fuck off,” Bruce said, but not unkindly. The new elevator was similar to the ones at Stark International, from what he could ascertain. Smooth ride. Very, very fast. He was used to these, and found them quite pleasurable. Soothing, even.

“How long was I--”

“A few minutes. Barely enough.”

Bruce’s gaze followed Tony’s arm. “And yet you’re still holding my hand.”

“Am I?” Tony smirked, untangling his fingers from Bruce’s. A bead of sweat formed near Bruce’s temple and dribbled down his neck, joining the other stains from earlier. 

“It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah. But to my credit, you haven’t dissociated like that in...?”

“Years.”

“But not months.”

“No. It’s better now.”

“Which is why I was holding your hand, to ground you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Tony smiled but didn’t answer before the doors whooshed open. Bruce’s lips parted. People hustled in front of him holding stacks of paper. Phones rang. An admin yelled “please hold, I’ll transfer you” and someone else barked “coming through” while carrying a box of donuts and a jar of coffee. Florescent hums and its ugly glare over a white, gray, black decor. A typical day at the office and typical office workers. Except everyone wore black uniforms. Jumpsuits, really. Which would be less creepy if they didn’t mimic paramilitary organizations.

“Tony, what...Is this--”

Tony left the elevator and crooked a finger towards Bruce. He waited until Bruce joined him before announcing, “Welcome to SHIELD,” and bowing before him like it was some great honor. He could’ve just as well announced “Welcome to Sherwood Forest,” because the result would’ve been the same.

“SH...what?”

“C’mere. I’ll show you around. But stick close to me, yeah?” Tony purposely kept his steps slow as he weaved through the throngs, as if he’d done the very same thing countless times. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. Tony’d known about this place, been here. For a long time.

“Wait. Wait.” Bruce planted his feet, refusing to take another step. The office waltz around him took cues from Bruce’s stance and became quieter, less frenetic. Faces turned his direction and not all were welcoming. “What the hell is this, Tony? I can’t go with you.” He gestured wildly at the underground...lair? Villain’s castle? “Why the fuck am I here?”

Instantly Tony was beside him. Slinging an arm around his shoulders. Grounding him. “Sorry,” he murmured in Bruce’s ear. “Thought you’d break later.” Tony kept talking quietly but Tony’s body steered them from the crowds and towards another corner with less razzle-dazzle. Far less nonsense. 

Tony nodded to a door, off to the side;  the name Tony Stark was on the door.

Tony Stark, Assistant Director of SHIELD.

What?

“Shh,” Tony hushed, because he must’ve said it out loud. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a coffee. Tell you all about it inside.”

And Bruce went in because Tony told him to, and he’d always trusted him to this point. Tony wouldn’t steer him wrong. Couldn’t.

Tony’s arm was still around his shoulder but he somehow kicked open his door, leading Bruce into an office space barely half the size of what he had at SI yet still, somehow, intimidating. There was a small conference table surrounded by high end lounge chairs, abstract art on three walls with a heavy curtain covering the fourth, and a desk surrounded by two-shelf bookcases, straight from an episode of Mad Men.

“Sit,” Tony said, nodding to an overstuffed barrel chair beside one of the bookcases. 

Bruce did. He let out a happy groan as his backside plunged into bliss.

Satisfied, Tony turned to a high-end coffee maker. The room was also big enough for a decent mini bar, of course; Tony opted to rest his coffee maker on the mini bar counter, maybe as a joke. His two favorite things in the world, together. 

Two seconds later Bruce heard a hiss with a steady drip-drip-drip. He watched as a dark liquid titrated into a demitasse. 

Tony slid a saucer beneath the cup. “You still like cioccolotta calda, right?”

Bruce shrugged. “I did when we went to Italy, that one time. You, me, and Rhodey.”

“Well. This will remind you of our trip. Guaranteed.”

Bruce snorted while adapting to everything. The chair hugged him like it was made for his dad bod, and he let himself feel it. Let it pull him out of the red zone, and into the black. When he felt near zero he spied the plush sheepskin rug, several inches deep, surrounded his chair.

“Go on. I know you want to.”

Bruce toed off his shoes and let his socked feet comb through the rug’s fluffy furry goodness. He sighed softly. “Like it was--”

“--made for you?” Tony finished. He handed him the Italian hot chocolate. “Yeah. Kinda the point.”

“Tony--”

“Shit. Wait, don’t drink it yet.”

Bruce sighed again and let his feet flex across the sheepskin. He almost tasted his cocoa despite Tony, but Tony jiggled his hand.

“Sheesh. So goddamn impatient. What did I say?” He dropped a dollop of whipped cream - fresh whipped, it seemed - into Bruce’s cocoa. “Now you can drink it.”

Bruce did, and involuntarily moaned as the flavors danced on his tongue. 

“Yeah? See?” He grinned. “And they said it couldn’t be done.”

“Mm.” Bruce’s tongue darted to the corners of his lips, lapping up every stray drop of chocolate. He finished the cup, quietly placed the cup and saucer on the small bookshelf, folded his hands over his paunch, and let his head drape over the back of the chair. 

Sighing deeply, Bruce closed his eyes. “Will you level with me now? You’re buttering me up for whatever it is. I get it. And I’m as calm as I’ll ever get today, so you might as well spit it out.”

He didn’t get an answer right away, but he didn’t expect to.

“Stop playing games with me.”

“I’m not, I’m...” Tony huffed, and Bruce opened one eye, watching him pace the length of his office. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. That’s all.”

Bruce grunted. “So start with the small things. Like why you have a curtain on a wall with no windows.”

“Who said I don’t have windows?”

“Tony. We’re underground. At least a hundred meters, I imagine, if an operation like this is going on and no one’s noticed. But you have a curtain. Why the hell do you have a curtain, when there’s nothing to goddamn see?”

Tony laughed, probably the most genuine laugh he’d heard from him all day. A full out, head back laugh, and Bruce tiredly lifted his head. “Oh, Brucie,” Tony said. He chuckled a few times. “If that’s all you wanted to know, well. That’s easy.”

He toggled something under his desk - another fucking switch, Bruce thought sharply. He rolled his head over the back of the chair as the curtains slowly parted, not caring in the least for Tony’s “big reveal.”

“I’ve got one of the best views in the world.”

“Sure you do,” Bruce grunted. He rubbed his eyes and slowly sat back up. “What could you possibly have that other rich bas...”

He stopped. Rubbed his eyes. Looked again. Then tripped to his feet and went to the very edge of the window. Tall waterfalls, lush grasses and dense jungle flora and fauna filled his view. The waterfall spilled into a subterranean lake, and from the lake’s current, Bruce guessed a river was in there somewhere, too.  

Eden. No, better than Eden.

“I...it’s beautiful.” Words failed him.

“Yeah, I think so.” Tony shuffled his feet. “I’ve got the best view in the house. I think there might be a few birds to the west of the falls,” he said, nodding to the window. “Dunno how they even got in, but whatever. Mi casa, and all that.”

Bruce gripped the glass, unable to drink it in fast enough. “How?” 

“You’ve heard of Sơn Đoòng cave?”

“Of course.”

“Well Dad found out, and wanted to recreate it. Make it ‘better’ or whatever. Not because he was an environmentalist, though. He wanted to prove he could it. And in America, no less.”

Bruce scowled, tearing away from the idyllic picture. “Stop lying to me. Hang Sơn Đoòng wasn’t discovered before the 90s.”

“Fine, then.” Tony nodded to the scene. “Explain that, Mr. Scientist.”

But Bruce couldn’t. Instead he pretended he wasn’t dreaming, hoped he wasn’t, even though it felt like it. He wanted, very badly, to take a nap somewhere in there. To get completely lost in it. “I can’t help thinking,” he murmured. He splayed his hands over the window, as if purifying his soul. If he could translate the beauty, bottle it, and drink it. He would be absolved. Completely, utterly absolved.

“I can’t help that, despite how beautiful this is, there’s a snake somewhere.” Bruce’s heart crumbled in ways he hoped wouldn’t. God, he could be so, so cynical but he was usually right. It’s what kept him alive so long. “Is this the reason you brought me here? I wish it was, I want it to be. I hope it is. But...it isn’t, is it?”

Tony slowly shook his head and smiled sadly. He dropped his gaze and fixed himself a drink. “Need you for more than the great views, buddy. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to add you to the roster. But we need you.”

Bruce swallowed and let himself view Eden, unspoiled, one last time before biting the apple of truth. “It never runs smooth, does it?”

“Nope.” Tony poured a shot of whiskey and gulped it down. “Never does.”

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Menace

Read this on AO3 Square Filled: PDA Ship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: E Major Tags: Grinding, Making Out, PDA, Frottage Word Count: 3099 Summary:

Bucky Barnes is a fucking menace.

Case in point: those jeans.

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Notes: Idk how public PDA needs to be for it to be considered PDA, but I figure that aggressively making out in front of your friends counts for something, right? 

The jeans that Bucky has on look a little something like the pair that Seb was wearing during the TIFF 2017 I, Tonya promo stuff. See here and here. 

Bucky’s t-shirt looks like the fifth one from this post. 

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky Barnes is a fucking menace.

This is a fact that Steve’s been aware of for a long time. However, every once in a while, the world likes to remind Steve just how much of a menace Bucky is.

Here’s the thing: Bucky is hot.

Smokin’ hot.

No two ways about it, Bucky is the hottest guy in Brooklyn.

(Steve’s opinion may be subject to high levels of bias, seeing as Bucky is his boyfriend and all).

Here’s another thing: Bucky knows that he’s hot.

More importantly, he knows how to show off his good looks. His fashion sense is unparalleled; every item of clothing that Bucky wears exudes a casual, nonchalant sex appeal that drives Steve crazy.

Case in point: those jeans.

They’re a bit of a mystery, as Steve’s not entirely sure how Bucky got himself into them. They look painted on, hugging his legs like a second skin. The jeans are black and super skinny, clinging to him in all the right places. It’s a wonder that Bucky can walk in them, let alone sit down. The denim wraps around his muscular thighs and is practically moulded to his ass, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘flaunting your assets’. The zipper in the front is straining against his bulge. If zippers could talk, Bucky’s would be begging for mercy.

Then of course, there’s the rest of Bucky’s outfit.

He’s wearing a white t-shirt that fits his torso perfectly. The material is thin enough for Steve to make out the outline of Bucky’s nipples, which is a major reason why Steve’s gaze keeps drifting down to Bucky’s chest. It hadn’t been so bad earlier, when they were outside, as Bucky had been wearing a dark blue bomber jacket that hid the offending nipples from Steve’s wandering eyes. But, now that they’re in Nat and Clint’s living room, the jacket has been shed, and Steve finds himself having to constantly force his eyes to look at more appropriate things.

“You’re staring again,” Sam whispers, elbowing Steve’s side pointedly. “Quit being a pervert.”

“He’s my boyfriend, I can stare if I want to,” Steve replies.

Sam snorts. His gaze drifts over to Bucky, who’s helping Natasha out in the kitchen. “Homeboy needs to buy some jeans that actually fit him,” he mutters.

“They fit him!” Steve protests, “They fit him really well.”

“Yeah?” Sam scoffs, “Well, I think most dudes wanna give their dick some breathing room, but everyone’s got their preference, I guess.”

It’s movie night at Natasha and Clint’s place and everyone is here. Wanda and Clint are by the TV console, hooking Clint’s laptop up to the TV, whilst Tony, Pepper and Sharon are setting out snacks on the coffee table. Steve and Sam have just come back from the corner store, having nipped out to buy a couple of six-packs. They’ve set the beers down on the floor beside the coffee table, as per Pepper’s instructions.

Sam heads off to the bathroom, whilst Steve hops onto the lazyboy, claiming it before it gets taken.

Tonight’s movie is Black Panther. Everyone except Wanda has already seen it, but as it’s a really good movie, no one minds watching it again.

“Okay, we’re ready to go,” Clint announces, standing up and clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Is it really as good as people say?” Wanda asks, as she claims a bowl of popcorn and curls up at the edge of the couch.

“Better,” Nat assures her. She sits down beside Wanda, then grumbles as Clint plops himself down on her other side, taking up nearly half of the couch in the process.

“Yeah, wait til’ you see Winston Duke in it,” Sharon says dreamily. “Now that’s what I call eye-candy.”

“Hey!” Sam says, affronted. “I go to the bathroom for literally a minute and you’re out here insulting me?”

“I love you too, Sammy,” Sharon says sweetly, feigning innocence. She pecks him on the cheek as he comes to sit beside her on the two-seater.

Tony and Pepper wind up in the oversized armchair, whilst Bucky joins Steve on the lazyboy. He clambers onto Steve’s lap and wedges his ass between the arm rest and Steve’s thigh, draping his legs over Steve’s lap. Bucky tucks Steve’s head against the side of his neck and rests his chin on Steve’s hair. Steve turns his face to the side and presses a kiss to the hollow of Bucky’s throat. Bucky huffs softly in response.

Someone hits play, and everyone quietens down as the opening scene rolls. With a bit of effort, Steve manages to snag a blanket from the side-table and drapes it over his and Bucky’s legs. Bucky hums appreciatively at the gesture.

Though Black Panther is a work of art, Steve’s not in the right headspace to be watching a movie right now. Bucky’s been wearing those goddamn jeans all evening, driving Steve wild; suffice it to say that Steve is a little riled up.

A part of him feels guilty for not paying attention to the cinematic masterpiece that is Black Panther, but he’s watched the movie a dozen times, so the guilt isn’t too strong. Steve’s focus is drawn to the fact that Bucky’s ass is dangerously close to his crotch.

“You’re a menace,” he breathes, nipping the hinge of Bucky’s jaw gently.

“Mm? Why’m I a menace, Stevie?” Bucky asks quietly, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

Steve slides his hand along the inseam of Bucky’s jeans, stopping an inch or so from his crotch.

“Leavin’ the house wearin’ somethin’ like this, that’s why,” Steve murmurs, squeezing Bucky’s thigh affectionately.

“What’s wrong with me wearing these jeans?” Bucky counters, pulling back to look at Steve, a sly smile on his lips.

“You make it hard to think,” Steve whispers, as he mouths at the skin just above Bucky’s collar. “Wanna do so many things to ya, you’ve no idea, Buck.”

Bucky makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a purr. “Tell me, Stevie.”

Steve swallows, flicking his eyes around the room to make sure that no one’s paying attention to them. “Wish I could bend you over that dining table,” Steve whispers, keeping his voice low. Bucky’s eyes flick over to glance at the table in question.

“Pull your pants down so I could see your ass. Maybe I’d lick at your hole until you’re loose and sloppy, eat you out til’ you come on my tongue alone,” Steve says hotly, catching Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky agrees shakily.

“Wanna make you suck me off too,” Steve admits, as he uses the tip of his nose to trace the sharp lines of Bucky’s jaw. “Pull your hair, make you choke on my cock, get it all wet and messy so that I could slip it to ya.”

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers. He threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, nails scratching against Steve’s scalp.

“Wanna make you scream, Buck,” Steve says, a bit of a growl creeping into his voice. He swallows, fighting to keep his voice down, so that he doesn’t disturb anyone.

Steve trails his lips over Bucky’s skin, mouthing at the underside of Bucky’s jaw and down his throat. He plants sloppy, haphazard kisses over every bit of exposed skin that he can get to. “Wanna punish you for bein’ like this,” he says, “Makin’ me walk around with a semi all evenin’ – Christ, you got no idea, Buck.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Bucky whispers, a hint of a needy whine behind his words.

Steve bites his lips and closes his eyes, breathing out a shuddering breath. “I want that too, Buck,” he says quietly, his tongue flicking out to taste Bucky’s skin again. “Wanna fuck you hard and then I wanna make love to you, take care of ya’ real good, baby.”

“Fuck, I want you so bad, Buck,” Steve says fervently.

Bucky makes a little hurt noise in the back of his throat as his upper body twists around. He crooks his finger under Steve’s chin, tipping his head back and bringing their lips together. So much is said without a word passing between them.

I love you. I want you. You make me crazy, so goddamn crazy, Steve says, with every press of his lips and each swipe of his tongue.

I know, Bucky says in return, I love you too, I want you just as much. When Bucky pulls away, there’s a mad gleam in his eyes, a flush of colour dusting the tops of his cheekbones.

Bucky presses his cheek to Steve’s temple. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me when we get home, Stevie, I swear,” Bucky promises, his hot breath ghosting over Steve’s cheek and the top of his ear.

Steve turns his face to the side, pressing his forehead against Bucky’s throat. He can feel Bucky’s racing pulse at that point of contact.

“You wanna bend me over the table and eat my ass out? You can do that,” Bucky says breathily. “Want me to suck you off? I will. Wanna make me cry and beg? We can. Wanna make love to me in our bedroom? We’ll do it, I swear,” he whispers, twining his fingers in Steve’s hair.

He uses his grip to pull Steve’s head back, forcing Steve to look him in the eyes. “We can do it all, baby, I promise you,” Bucky husks.

Steve’s not sure what kind of expression is on his face right now, but he’s pretty sure it’s something mushy and sappy, full of love. Half of Bucky’s face is illuminated by the TV, the colourful lights flickering across his skin in mesmerising patterns. He looks beautiful like this, with his features thrown into sharp relief by the contrast of dark and light.

“I love you,” Steve says.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Love you too, you mook,” he whispers, leaning down to capture Steve’s lips with his.

Steve sighs happily, lips parting underneath the pressure of Bucky’s insistent tongue. Bucky licks into his mouth, hot and wet and insistent, a brief hint at what they’ll be doing later tonight.

Steve’s eyes flutter shut as Bucky trails wet kisses along his jaw, pausing to suck on the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He shivers with arousal, his cock beginning to stir in his jeans.

“Buck,” he says warningly.

Bucky pays him no attention. He continues to trace the tendons in Steve’s neck with his tongue, stopping occasionally to nibble at Steve’s sensitive spots, the ones that make his toes curl reflexively. Steve has to bite down on his lip to stifle his moans; Bucky’s actions are driving him half-mad with pleasure.

“Buck, we gotta stop,” Steve rasps.

“You started it, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, leaning down to scrape his teeth over Steve’s jugular. Steve’s fingers flex involuntarily, itching to grab Bucky’s waist and flip them onto the floor.

He opens his eyes a fraction to study the state of the room. Everyone else is focused on the movie, captivated by T’Challa and Shuri’s playful banter, seemingly oblivious to his and Bucky’s antics. Steve doesn’t know whether that will be the case for much longer.

“You started it,” Bucky repeats, his clever tongue tracing the shell of Steve’s ear, pulling Steve’s attention back to him. A shiver of excitement runs down Steve’s spine.

“You started it,” Steve retorts, turning to quickly peck Bucky on the lips. “Wearin’ those jeans – that’s what got me thinkin’ in the first place.”

“You love me in these jeans,” Bucky whispers, a sly smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I guess do,” Steve says, trying – and failing – to inject a little bit of heat to his voice. Bucky’s smile widens as his arms loop around Steve’s neck, pulling their bodies closer. Each press of his lips against Steve’s is hot and purposeful; Bucky’s not fucking around. When his fingers thread through Steve’s hair and tug gently, Steve moans a little louder than he should’ve.

That draws some people’s attention.

“Get a room, you two!” Tony yells, throwing a pillow at Bucky’s head. It misses him completely, landing somewhere behind the chair.

Bucky flips him off, not even breaking the kiss to do so.

“Steve! Bucky! Ew, no one wants to see that!” Wanda protests. He hears Natasha wolf-whistling loudly.

Bucky huffs against Steve’s lips. Without warning, without pulling his lips away, Bucky somehow manages to twist his body, swinging his legs around until he’s straddling Steve’s lap. The blanket flutters to the floor. Bucky drops his full weight onto Steve’s crotch, exerting pressure on Steve’s hardened cock, forcing a choked-off groan out of his lungs.

“Buck—what’re you—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Bucky growls quietly, fisting his hands in the front of Steve’s shirt.

Their lips crash together in a sloppy, passionate kiss – a symphony of lips and tongue and teeth clacking together. Of their own volition, one of Steve’s hands curls around the back of Bucky’s neck, whilst the other grips his waist tightly.

“Bucky,” Steve pants, not breaking the kiss. “Stop it—we gotta—we can’t—”

“Fuck ‘em, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, as his lips trail across Steve’s cheek, over his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t care, I want you so bad.”

Steve groans, resigning himself to fate. Bucky is a man on a mission, and if there’s one thing that Steve knows about his boyfriend, it’s that nothing can get in his way once he’s set his heart on something. Bucky’s fingers have threaded through his hair, holding his head in place as his tongue curls into Steve’s mouth, kissing him wet and dirty. Steve lets his hands roam over Bucky’s toned back and shoulders, tracing his bunching and flexing muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

Bucky’s hands let go of Steve’s hair, and he moves to grip the back of the lazyboy. He uses his hold as leverage to grind himself against Steve’s body, rubbing their crotches together. The friction on his cock is amazing, making Steve’s eyes flutter shut.  He has to bite his lips to suppress a moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes out, hands sliding down Bucky’s rippling back to rest on his ass. He can’t help but give it a little squeeze, which only prompts Bucky to grind against him with more intent. Steve’s been trying hard to keep his touches above the waist, but with Bucky not playing fair – well, it’s not Steve’s fault that things got so hot so fast.

Steve opens his eyes, leaning back to watch Bucky’s movements.

He is mesmerising, backlit by the glowing light of the TV. Strands of hair has fallen out of his bun, clinging to his temples and cheeks. His lips are plump and kiss-bitten, rounded in a soft ‘o’. His cheeks are stained red and his eyes are hooded with lust. As Steve’s eyes rake down his body, he notes how Bucky’s stiff nipples are poking through the flimsy material of his top; Steve’s lips ache to close around them, to torture those sensitive little nubs. His eyes travel further south, zeroing in on the prominent bulge in the front of Bucky’s jeans, where his cock is straining against his zipper.

“You guys!” Sam yells, “Stop it, or I swear to god, I’ll dump cold water on you both.”

In response, Bucky winks at Steve, before inching closer and literally shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat. Steve laughs into his mouth but plays along, sliding his hands underneath Bucky’s t-shirt, fingertips tracing the muscles in his back.

“Oh my god, you horny dogs,” Sam groans. His voice is muffled, like he’s covered his face with a cushion.

“Boys! Not on my chair!” Nat yells. Steve can hear someone – possibly Clint or Tony – hooting and cat-calling.

“Guys!” Wanda whines, “I wanna watch.”

“How the fuck can you guys be so into each other when Chadwick fucking Boseman is shirtless, on screen?” Sharon asks incredulously.

Bucky breaks the kiss, a wild, disbelieving look in his eyes. “Have you seen Steve without his shirt?” he asks, “Now there’s a pair of pecs.”

“Bucky,” Steve says exasperatedly, cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“And you say I’m bad, Peps,” Tony says teasingly.

“You are, just not as bad as them,” Pepper replies.

Steve can register other comments being made, but his attention has re-focused on Bucky, who is now intent on sucking a bruise on his collarbone. Bucky has tugged the neckline of his t-shirt down, giving his mouth access to that sensitive spot on Steve’s chest, the one that makes his groin throb with pleasure.

“Buck,” he gasps urgently, fingers digging into Bucky’s side. “Buck—baby, c’mon, lemme take you home, yeah? Take care of you proper, like I want to.”

“No,” Bucky murmurs, his tongue laving over the purple bruise that has started to form on Steve’s skin. “Want you now.”

Steve closes his eyes and inhales shakily, trying to reign in his deep-seated urge to fuck Bucky senseless right now. He’s hanging on by the thinnest thread of self-control, and he needs to get them out of here before they embarrass themselves any further.

“Buck, hey—Bucky,” Steve says, tangling his fingers into Bucky’s hair and yanking his head back. Bucky whines quietly, though he doesn’t fight Steve’s grip. His eyes are glazed with lust, pupils blown wide.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” Steve coos softly, stroking the knuckles of his free hand over Bucky’s cheek. “Why don’t you let me take you home and show you a real good time, yeah? Open you up real nice for my cock, give you what you want, hmm?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter shut. Steve can feel the desire practically vibrating out of his body. “Okay,” he croaks, nodding jerkily.

“Okay,” Steve agrees, loosening his grip on Bucky’s hair.

Quick as a flash, Bucky whips around, swiping the blanket from off the floor and wrapping it around his waist as he stands up, the material making his erection less obvious. “Meet ya’ downstairs, Stevie,” he says, winking at Steve cheekily before spinning on his heel and stalking off.

With no means of hiding his hard-on from his friends, Steve groans quietly, his head thumping against the back of the lazyboy as he presses the heel of his palms to his eyes. Walking down a couple of flights of stairs with a rock-solid dick is going to be difficult enough; the fact that anyone he passes will see the clear evidence of his arousal simply worsens the problem.

Steve sighs. His boyfriend is a fucking menace.

[dapperfvck-arc]

Warning: I’m putting this under a cut, but I know that’s not a bit of help for mobile users so IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS FOR THE NEW CONSTANTINE ANIMATION OR TO HEAR ME SCREAM INCOHERENTLY ABOUT ALL THE THINGS THAT MADE ME ANGRY, SCROLL FAST AND/OR CLOSE YOUR EYES.

So. Big surprise. I hated every fucking second of it, but here’s the few good points.

-- It’s following a bit more closer to the storyline of ...And all His Engines than it did in the original Constantine series, which did have an episode with loose ties to it. Why on earth they called it City of Demons, I’ve not the fucking foggiest aside from playing on the fact that it’s set in L.A. I think it’s confusing for people who read the comic when it was on Vertigo because there was a fantastic Hellblazer special by the same name. It makes me wonder if they did it on purpose. 

-- Chas is English! Yay! And not magic! YAY!

-- There’s gory violence and John smoking and swearing, so at least they didn’t pull their punches too far.

And now the stunningly long list of things that left me enraged (have I mentioned these episodes are only six to seven minutes long? For reasons unknown???? I’m impressed by how much they jammed into it that absolutely drove me up the wall):

-- Now, this is a bit of a nit pick, I realize this, but it’s very important to me because there is literally no fucking reason for it. The show purports that John and Chas met when they were ten years old. This is patently false. They met shortly after John moved to London when he was in his teens. He was renting a room from Chas’s mother, and some pretty intense shit happened. Long story, but the point is they did not meet when they were ten. Pretty sure Chas is a London native. They were not childhood friends. I know it’s so small, but it erases the dynamic of how they met, the event that happened that won over Chas’s loyalty, and there is no fucking reason for it.

-- Along with this, Mucous Membrane was vastly overblown, claimed to have been something John and Chas started together, that the band was playing for years. Once more this is false. In fact, Chas’s history was blended with Gary Lester’s, who was actually the one who was John’s childhood friend and the one who he formed the band with. Again, there is no fucking reason for this. It’s not like they have to worry about casting actors and being on a budget or whatever. It’s a goddamned animation).  Chas was shown to be a drummer in the band. Also incorrect. Chas was the band’s roadie and driver.  There is no mention of the other members of MM. Also Mucous Membrane was only around for...maaayyybe two years depending on the precise timeline of formation and disbanding.

-- OH BOY! MORE NEWCASTLE RETREADING! Ok, where to start??? So, letsee, apparently Chas was there. McNope. In fact he was not. Now I will give a small amount of credit in that they mentioned Alex Logue and his cult, but the details were heavily altered. Once more, the true scope of Astra’s trauma was erased (which ok, fine. I can understand them not wanting to deal with CSA and  Alex using her as an unwilling magical conduit was a fine change and comparably deplorable) and there is no mention of Norfulthing, which I do not understand and honestly makes John look even more recklessly stupid than he did in the comics. So, the animation tells it like this: John and Chas learn that Alex is doing this awful thing to Astra and go to confront him (incorrect. Aside from the fact that Chas was not there, there were actually five other people who went to the Cassanova Club with John and Gary. It was not to confront Alex about his mistreatment of Astra, but because he had stiffed MM for payment of their performance the night before as well as having a few other curious occultists in tow because Logue’s dabbling in the dark arts was a known quantity). In his self-righteous anger, John summons Nergal in order to fight? Scare? Alex and his cultists into stopping being evil fuckers or whatever (Also incorrect. They stumbled onto Astra traumatized and surrounded by dead bodies because she inadvertently summoned a very angry entity called Norfulthing, who had slaughtered Alex and the other cultists brutally and then proceeded to violently attack members of John’s little group. Nergal was summoned to fight Norfulthing, which makes sense in a very literal sort of way). John lost control of Nergal who, after killing Alex and his cult buddies, went on to kill everyone else at the Cassanova Club. For some reason there’s a concert going on which??? Ok fine, show. I’m not even touching that (Helllla incorrect. While Nergal did defeat Norfulthing, he also fucked with John and everyone else there, mostly psychologically, then dragged Astra into hell. John in fact followed them partway into Hell, but Nergal dismembered her after John got ahold of her hand and in fact John came to afterward still holding onto that limb, so good times that). Now aside from the CSA and uh, some of the fucked up shit that Norfulthing did to John’s friends, I don’t understand why this is changed. It’s just so frustrating I could scream.

-- Nightmare Nurse shows up because...JLD? Fuck JLD. Unnecessary and distracting.

-- John’s characterization is still...off. It’s not as infuriating as it was in the TV series but not by much. I don’t know. There’s just that spark missing. A certain magic that makes John charming and fascinating, even if he is also a walking dumpster fire. I guess...I guess it’s hard to write? Idek. I’m once more brought back to the endlessly aggravating question of what is happening with the people who write John theses days? It’s not like the Vertigo series didn’t have people who didn’t get him, but predominately the series had excellent writing and consistent characterization. Pretty much since Nu52, John’s characterization via DC writers has ranged to passable to complete garbage. 

-- More overtly showy portrayals of John’s magic. Whatever. Over it. Enough.

So yeah, I hated it and will not be watching anymore. It’s too stressful. I mean, I guess my standards are really high? But like, I love the Constantine movie, and it strongly deviates from canon, but it has the right spirit and I’m sorry. You can hate me. Keanu was wonderful and I loved him as John. So it’s not like I’m sitting here being that asshole like I WILL ONLY ACCEPT PERFECT CANON. I think it just makes me angry that both the TV series and this animation are like “we’re going to give you a proper adaption of this comic you love” and then consistently fucks up details for completely inexplicable reasons. DC owns John. They own Vertigo, so it’s not like they don’t have the rights to the details of his story. It completely baffles me. Judging from the swearing, violenc, and sexual innuendo, it’s not like they’re pulling any punches to sanitize it fully like NBC did so I’m just...completely flummoxed.

One last note: The animation is...fine. Idek. I don’t really like most modern animation. Like, I understand why they do it on computers now. but it just looks so damned souless to me. I mean, there are other cartoons that have been done on computer that don’t look so flat and dead to me. Also I have a personal vendetta against that stupid fucking stubble shit on John’s face. Like seriously, it looks fucking stupid, and honestly? John is clean shaven more often than not in the comics sooo....fuck off with that shit?

[90sgrungewriter]

6. Untitled - Eddie Vedder

Status: Unedited

Needless to say, most of the day was spent creating wacky works of art with Eddie. You's started with big scraps of paper and combined your minds together, and created some pretty wicked paintings. You smoked 2 joints by this time, so you both were pretty high, but as the time passed, you were starting to burn out.

"Wanna take a break? I'll order us some take-out." You stood up and made your way over to your kitchen and opened the drawer where all your takeout flyers were.

"Where from?" The voice cam from almost directly behind you. It startled you so you whipped around and noticed he was standing just a few feet away from you, hands in his pocket.

"Sorry, didn't think you scared that easy." He winked. You rolled your eyes.

"Well, now you know."

He met you at the island in the center of your kitchen and you looked to decide together where you would order from.

"Okay wait. So what are we thinking? Pizza, Greek, Chinese...?" you turned your head to the side to look at him. 

"Mm, Chinese food sounds pretty good to me, right now." He said as he rested a hand on his slim tummy. You couldn't help but agree. It really did.

"Totally agree. What about Chen's Village? They have the best chicken chow mein." You gave him the brochure for the restaurant, and he took a few seconds to look it over, before approving.

"Alright, I'll have the fried tofu with mixed vegetables. You want me to call?" He offers. You nodded meekly.

"Please? I hate talking on the phone. This weird phobia of mine, I guess."

"Its ok, I'll call." He smiled. You pointed him to the phone that lay on the table and he quickly made the call. While he was doing so, you sneaked away to your room to grab your wallet from your purse. He payed for breakfast, so you thought it only to be fair if you were to pay for dinner. At the same time, you grabbed your fluffy blanket at the same time.

When you came back, you decided to clean up the living room a little. A few minutes later he came to help. After that was done, you tossed him the TV remote, and he plopped down on your couch and turned it on.

You were about to sit down too when you heard the doorbell. Before Eddie could even stand up you rushed to the door. The delivery person was a nice older lady, so you made sure to tip her a few extra bucks. She thanked you kindly, and you grabbed the food and shut the door. You turned to Eddie giving you a slight glare, arms crossed.

"You had this planned, didn't you?"

"Maybe." You winked.

"Couldn't you just let me be a nice guy and pay for you?" He said in a voice you knew he was picking on you.

"Oh shut up. You did pay for breakfast this morning, so can't you just let me be a nice girl and pay for you this time around?"

"Goddamn double standards." He cursed. You gently punched his arm with your free hand, and he swiped the food right out of your grasp.

"Hah!  Its all mine now. " You chased him around your tiny apartment, the both of you laughing like crazy.

Finally catching up to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, lifting his taller frame right off the ground.

"Hahaha, oh my god!" Eddie shouted laughing hysterically. 

You set him down on the couch, ripping the big box of food from his hands this time.

"I cant believe you just picked me up. You're so tiny! Where do you hide all your muscles?" He stood up, and poked at your arms with his soft hands. You giggled as he continued to do so and followed you to the kitchen.  

"I actually used to hit the gym a lot in whenever I was in high school. I went through this intense phase of getting fit, I used to always get picked on about my weight,and I never had a boyfriend so I always felt insecure about it. Anyway, I hit the gym and hit it hard. Got in pretty good shape, now I can kick ass, I guess." There was a lot missing to that story, but you didn't feel like venturing too far into it. Eddie nodded his head.

"But you're so tiny." He lifted your arm.

"Yeah, its been at least a year since I've been. Just caught up with life. Between work and school, and trying to keep somewhat of a social life...the gym just isn't much of an option for me right now." You smiled, taking out plates for your food. Once everything was set, Eddie grabbed both of your plates and brought them to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote flipping through the channels.

"Want something to drink Ed? Water, beer, a coke?"

"Maybe just some water please." He turned and shot you a toothy smile. While you filled the glasses with ice, you thought about the days events. You spent the whole day with Eddie today, and really enjoyed it. You hoped he wasn't just staying because he thought it would be rude if he left. But things seemed to be going right for you, for once. So, this one time, you convinced yourself that it wasn't true. You told yourself Eddie finds a good friend in you, and he enjoyed your company, as you did his. You poured cold water into the glasses and made your way to the living room, passing one to Eddie.

"Thank you." He looked at you and took a large gulp.

"You're welcome. Find anything interesting?" You sat down and wrapped your fuzzy blanket around the lower half of your body. Your legs were folded under your but and your body leaned toward the arm of the couch to your left. Eddie laughed.

"Comfy?"

"I am now." You laughed. As you were about to reach to grab your plate on the coffee table, Eddie beat you to it and set it gently down in your lap. You smiled up at him, he was so nice.

“Such a gentleman." He nodded, digging into his own plate of food.

“I try to be.” 

Your eyes shifted to the TV to see you were watching some documentary about bugs. What a guy.

"I can change it if this grosses you out. There wasn't much else on." He laughed, mouthful of food.

"Its fine, I know. My channels suck. Thats why I own so many movies." You pointed to the corner where all your DVD's were stocked messily on a shelf. He nodded.

"Maybe we should watch one of those, then." He looked at you.

"Sure, you can check them out. Maybe eat first though, so your food doesn't get cold."

"Way ahead of ya." He winked again. Fuck off. Now he was going to start winking at you too? Like his cheekbones weren't enough. Goddamnit.

You cleared your throat and continued to eat.

"Thanks for spending the day with me Ed." You spoke, after a few moments of silence. Your food was delicious, and judging by the look on his face you could tell he felt the same way.

"Anytime."

"Oh, don't say that. I get pretty lonely quite often." You teased.

"Yeah, well me too.." He said softly, a small smile upon his lips. You observed him out of the corner of your eye, something you had been doing quite a lot, but couldn't help yourself. He was such an interesting guy.

"What do you mean by that?" You questioned curiously. He stayed quiet for a few moments, probably trying to word something properly in his mind.

"I don't know..I haven't every really spoken about my feelings to anyone. Or anything to anyone for that matter. Sometimes, barely even Beth." Ah, her. Almost forgot about her for a while. Almost. You scolded yourself mentally. Don't be such a bitch, Dani. The poor guy might spill something important to you, and all you can think about is your jealousy over his ex girlfriend? You were disappointed in yourself. He continued to speak.

"Talking about it to someone, well, you...just makes things seem more real. Maybe, some things I've been trying not to think about for a long time." He seemed very conflicted. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, hoping to comfort him in a subtle way.

"Beth...She uh-well...I always made it seem like we had the perfect relationship. Like she was perfect, and if anything, she could do better than me." He finished up his plate of food, and set it gently on the table in front of him. You removed your hand to place your own plate, which still had some food left, but you didn't want to be rude while he was talking, down on the table also. You re-adjusted your position so that you were now facing him, legs crossed, blanket still wrapped around your legs. You suddenly remembered when you told him he could talk to you if need be, but you didn't actually think he would. But here he is, ready to probably tell you some serious shit. You suddenly grew nervous. You were happy he had chose to confide in you, but you were most definitely not the greatest when it came your turn to talk. You knew that maybe he wasn't expecting you to say anything at all, because that the way he was. Maybe he didn't chose you at all, maybe he just felt bad about the Stone situation. He knew you felt embarassed about it all, and maybe he wanted to make it more bearable for you by spilling his guts or something. Your rambling mind was interrupted by his sweet voice.

"I used to be so sure about us. The way she felt for me, our future. I thought it was set in stone. Seven years is a long time." You stayed quiet. The only sounds were the noises coming from the TV, but the volume wasn't very loud to begin with. He continued to talk.

"But then this happened. So abruptly, all these changes that were to take place in my life. I mean, I left San Diego, my home, to come here. That was a big enough change, and now the person I spent the last seven years waking up to every morning, I'll never see again." He looked down as he spoke, playing with the hem of his flannel. "My life took a complete turn and now, I feel like I don't know anything. What to do, how to feel, how to move forward. I was going to propose to her." That shocked you. Your eyes widened a little, but you still said nothing. There was nothing you could say, really.

"The first day I came here, after our first jam session, I went looking all around for jewelry stores to find here the perfect ring. Ironically, I didn't see any that I thought she'd like. I guess that was a good thing." He tried to joke lightly, but you didn't really laugh. It wouldn't have really been appropriate.

"I loved her, and I thought she loved me. But thinking about it these past couple of days...deep down, I knew. I always knew." He shook his head. Knew what?

"Knew what?" You repeated outside of your mind this time, quietly, curiously.

"There was always something missing. A piece, always a sense of emptiness in our relationship." You were still slightly confused. 

"Her love. It was never there. Maybe at first, but as time went by... I think she just got used of me being there. I was a part of her life she was just used to having around." You nodded, finally understanding. Your heart hurt for him. You could never imagine someone in there right minds doing that to someone like Eddie. He deserved better.

"I at least thought she cared about me though. But looking back on it... she surely didn't. You don't fuck over the ones you care about." Ain't that the truth.

"I'm a bit scared. I don't know where I stand, with almost anything. The guys seem to like me, but what if I do something stupid and mess up? If that happens, I go back to San Diego to start back at zero again. No girlfriend, no band, no job. Nothing." He leaned his back against the back of the couch. Your eyes followed his all the way there, filled with worry for him. You decided it was time to say something.

"First things first, the guys fucking love you, man. That should not be a worry in your little head, so flush that one away. Okay? If anything, they're probably scared to lose you. After Andy... things are looking up for them right now and I'm sure they don't want their hard work to go down the drain." You leaned over to get a bit closer to him, but not too close. "Secondly, Ed. I'm speaking as a true friend to you right now, whatever happened with Beth is not the end of anything. I mean, it is the end of a relationship, but it’s also a new beginning." He turned his head, eyes bore into yours, he rose a brow in question.

"Well for one, all those feelings of worry, angst and emptiness you felt when you were with her, thats all over with. You won't have that weighing you down anymore." You hoped you worded that properly. "It seems to me, this all happened for the best, for you. It may not seem like it right now, but maybe in a few months you'll be happier than you ever have been. You never know. Life works in some mysterious ways Eddie, thats one thing I can tell you for sure." You smiled lightly over at him. He stayed quiet for a few moments, eyes locked to yours. You shifted uncomfortably, had you said something wrong? You hoped not.

"I think... I think you're right." He spoke, sitting up straighter, tearing his eyes away from your own. Oh thank god. You smiled. "A new beginning. Huh. Never thought of it like that..."He drifted.

You patted his back gently. "Atta boy!" You joked. He laughed and nudged your shoulder.

"Thanks, Dani. Much better than the advice you gave me the other night." He teased. Your jaw dropped and you punched his shoulder this time around.

"Fuck you, I tried!" You couldn't help but laugh, and so did he. Quite some time had passed, and you two went on talking. It nearing 9:00, but you weren't tired yet. After all, you did end up sleeping in quite a bit this morning. You knew you couldn't miss your class tomorrow though. You stood up, the blanket falling to the floor, as you picked the plates up of your coffee table and brought them to the kitchen. You set them in the sink for now, you didn't really feel like doing dishes at this moment.

"Thanks for dinner and the eventful day. I had fun painting with you...oh and letting me rant, thanks for that." He stated awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Anytime, Ed." You smiled warmly.

"I should get going though. I gotta shower, I'm starting to stink."

"Is that what I've been smelling?" You scrunched your nose teasingly and the two of you laughed. You followed him to your door.

"Thank you for spening the day with me, Eddie. And for breakfast this morning. Say hello to my boys for me, alright?" You opened your door for him as he finished lacing up his white boots.

He straightened out and pulled you into a quick, and awkward hug. Safe to say, it didn't last long. He waved goodbye and promised he would say hi to the guys. When he was halfway down the hall of your building he shouted at you "don't forget our gig friday!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Vedder." You waved back at him this time, a toothy grin plastered on your face, as you watched him disappear down the stairs.

[necro-romantic]

sooo i wrote a fan ep of it’s always sunny where the gang gets trapped in dee’s apartment building with a killer but they keep taking themselves out by being dumb bitches before the killer can even find them it’s here if u want to read it 

Title: The Gang Gets Murdered

Characters: Charlie, Dee, Mac, Dennis, Frank

Warnings: Violence, swearing

INT. LATE EVENING, DEE’S APARTMENT

The gang is sitting on various pieces of furniture, all pulled into a semi-circle around the TV. The floor is covered in empty food containers, ripped popcorn bags, and crushed cans of beer. The end credits of “American Psycho” are playing on the TV screen, which dimly lights the dark living room in flickering bursts of illumination.

DENNIS

I’m just saying, I think it’s a little weird that the killer never gets away with it on TV. It’s an art- there’s so much, finesse, skill- serial killers are brilliant, they’re gifted. And they never get away with it- look, I’m not defending murder, I’m not, it’s just weird is all I’m saying. Inaccurate. Frankly, I’d be offended, if I was a serial killer.

CHARLIE

But you’re not, right, so- (he shrugs) it’s like- it

doesn’t really matter.

DENNIS

(Exasperated, one hand on his face, gesturing with the other)

No, I know it doesn’t matter I’m just saying-

MAC scoots across the floor and pops open the DVD player, holding the disc in his hand and glancing back at DENNIS.

MAC

It’s my turn to pick the movie next, right?

DENNIS

(Motioning towards the now black screen)

C’mon man, the credits weren’t even over, what, you didn’t like my pick?

MAC

Little creepy man, too many prostitutes anyways. Boobs all up in- I mean- I like boobs I’m just saying, fake ones are, they’re, ya know-

DENNIS

Creepy? “American Psycho” is a classic, Mac. A classic.

MAC

(Shrugging)

I never saw it before. Can’t be that much of a classic.

DENNIS

That’s because you have shit taste, dude. Shit taste.

DEE

Mm, I’m with Mac on this one. A little creepy. Also I’m pretty sure you got off during that scene with the axe, and I’m just glad I was on the other side of the couch.

DENNIS

Alright, well, you’re a stupid bitch. What about you Frank. You’re with me, right? It’s a classic.

FRANK

Yeah- yeah, sure, I wanna go back to the tits though, (he turns to look at MAC) because a fake tit is still a good tit. I’ll stand by that, feel the same in your hand. Feel real enough to me.

DENNIS

(Groaning)

I don’t know why I bother to share my movies with you when none of you ever never appreciate them, the nuances in dialogue, the filming, the development of- uncultured. You’re all uncultured. Absolutely-

He’s interrupted by a shrill scream from above them.

DENNIS

(Angrily banging on the ceiling with his palm)

Hey! Excuse me! I am talking!

There’s a loud crash and the ceiling crumbles, spilling drywall across the carpet, and dumping a body- along with a shattered chandelier- into the center of the living room.

ALL

Shit.

MAIN TITLES

Title: “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia”

Title: “Episode ?????”

Title: “The Gang Gets Murdered”

FADE IN: INT. STILL DEE’S APARTMENT, MOMENTS LATER

DEE

Is she-

DENNIS

(Interrupting sarcastically and rolling his eyes)

No, she’s just asleep Dee, God, use your head for once you dumb bitch.

DEE

Oh, I’m sorry. This is just a little traumatic, you know.

DENNIS

You’re such a bitch. Like you’ve never seen a dead body before.

DEE

Are you saying you have?

DENNIS

C’mon, we gotta get out of here, the killer’s probably still nearby. I don’t want him catching me near the body.

DEE

Shouldn’t we call the police?

DENNIS

Yeah, Dee, let’s do that. Let’s just get all up in this mess, let’s just, involve ourselves. God, you’re such an amatuer. I’m not getting messed up in another man’s business. (He puts his hands up) I’m out of here. He takes care of the body, I take care of my own shit.

DEE

I live here. My carpet is covered in blood.

DENNIS

You think that asshole’s leaving any evidence here? We’re out for the night, we come back to a scrubbed carpet, fixed ceiling, no sign of body fluids. Free cleaning, Dee. Free cleaning. You think the cops are paying for this damage? Your landlord? You want to pay for a new ceiling, huh?

CHARLIE

I’m with Dennis, I wanna get outta here.

DEE

Fine, fine, we’ll go. Just let me get my purse.

FRANK pulls the door open and stands there stiffly, eyes wide.

CHARLIE

Hey, get outta the way man, what’re you-

FRANK leans in close to CHARLIE’S ear.

FRANK

Charlie.

CHARLIE

Dude- your breath smells like-

FRANK

Charlie he’s out there.

CHARLIE

What the fuck are you-

FRANK

He’s out there.

CHARLIE

Who? The mailman, the fucking pizza guy, I don’t-

FRANK

The killer, Charlie. The killer.

CHARLIE

Aw, shit. Close the door, maybe he won’t come in.

DENNIS

(Aggravated, motioning towards the dead woman lying on the floor)

The body’s in here Charlie, of course he’s coming in here!

CHARLIE

Oh yeah.

DENNIS

How do you know he’s the killer anyways, Frank?

FRANK

Sketchy looking dude.

DENNIS

(Peeking around the corner)

Oh my god he’s black. Are you saying he looks sketchy because he’s black? You can’t say that, Frank.

FRANK

Nah- nah- he’s not sketchy because he’s black, he’s just sketchy and black.

DENNIS

Well, we have no solid evidence it’s him, so I say we just go. We start walking, calm- calm. Bitch was poisoned anyways. Killer could be anywhere in the building.

DEE

Poisoned? How do you know that?

DENNIS

Oh, come on, no sign of physical injury besides the head wound from the chandelier that broke the floor- terrible floors by the way, Dee, I’d complain about that- the cord was in her hand, so she most likely did that herself, accidentally pulled it down on top of her in a panic- bright red blood, and she reeked of almonds. Cyanide.

DEE

Alright, so, sketchy black guy in the hall, sketchy white guy in the room with us- I’m taking my risks with hall guy.

She pushes past the others and out into the hall.

CHARLIE

Yeah, hall guy.

DENNIS

(Only one left in the room, shouting out into the hallway, motioning dramatically)

C’mon guys, plenty of people know- it’s not that weird to- (He lets out a disgruntled noise and let his arms drop back to his side.) Wait for me!

INT. THE HALL. IT’S DIMLY LIT, AND APPEARS ALMOST MENACING

They walk stiffly down the hallway and huddle together in the elevator.

INT. THE ELEVATOR

CHARLIE

Man, why do ya think he killed her?

MAC

(Shrugging)

She was probably being a bitch. I bet she deserved it.

DEE

She was kind of annoying. She tried to talk to me while we were doing laundry, I mean, who does that?

CHARLIE

Yeah, and she always talks real loud in her sleep when I come over, that’s annoying.

DENNIS

Charlie, you do know that’s not what- she’s having sex. She’s having sex Charlie.

CHARLIE

Oh. Yeah that makes a lot more sense I guess.

DEE

Y’know, I wanna talk about the fact that during that awful laundry conversation, she told me her boyfriend’s name was John, but, (she turns to DENNIS) I heard her screaming your name an awful lot.

DENNIS

(Shrugging)

She was hot. Insecure. Her boyfriend really did a number on her self-esteem, made it incredibly easy for me to get whatever I wanted from her. Not an ounce of self respect. Almost too easy, really. Mmm, but she sure knew how to-

DEE

(Visibly disgusted)

Alright- shutting that conversation down. Alright, so she was an annoying, bitchy slut.

CHARLIE

(Looking at the buttons on the elevator pad)

Hey, any of you guys noticed that we aren’t moving down anymore?

MAC

Yeah, I was thinking that. It’s been on “3” for a while now.

FRANK

Aw shit, we pissed off her ghost.

DENNIS

Ghosts aren’t real, Frank.

CHARLIE

Nah, they definitely are, there’s one at our apartment, we call him “Soft Tom”, he knocks shit over, and sometimes you feel him brush against you and he’s real soft and all.

DENNIS

That’s a cat, Charlie. Not a ghost, a cat.

CHARLIE

(Defensively)

Could be a ghost cat.

DENNIS

(Sighing)

Alright, well, whatever the reason, we’re stuck in this elevator. So let’s just remain calm and-

FRANK

C’mon Charlie- let’s climb out through the shaft.

CHARLIE

I don’t know Frank that seems a little-

FRANK

It’ll be just like all your vents Charlie, c’mon.

CHARLIE

(Apprehensive)

Alright, yeah, I guess.

FRANK

Get on my shoulders, yep- right, now, pull me up-

CHARLIE

Dude, you weigh like, a thousand pounds, I can’t-

FRANK

Mac- Mac- hoist me up.

MAC

Shit man, you really are heavy-

FRANK

Alright, alright, I’m up, here Mac, give me your hand and I’ll pull you up.

DENNIS

(Annoyed)

Are you guys idiots? You think you’re gonna make it up the shaft? The elevator’s gonna get fixed, and-

CHARLIE (O.S)

How long’s the shaft?

FRANK (O.S)

Don’t know- shouldn’t have to go too far along the shaft though, just to the next floor.

MAC (O.S)

Can you guys stop saying shaft?

DENNIS

(Exasperated)

And, they’re gone.

DEE

Dumbasses.

DENNIS

I know! God- there’s a corpse in this building and they’re crawling around in the elevator shaft- and they thought hall guy was shady. Amateurs. Goddamn amateurs.

DEE

Mm, see, but the more you say “amateurs”, the shadier you sound.

DENNIS

(Ignoring her)

Oh- and we’re moving again. If those assholes had waited just thirty more seconds they wouldn’t have had to crawl up to the fourth floor.

INT. FIRST FLOOR, RIGHT OUTSIDE THE ELEVATOR

DEE

(Stepping out of the elevator)

Should we wait for them?

DENNIS

Nah- let’s just go.

There’s a cacophony of noise and MAC comes rushing down the stairs, covered in dust and oil.

MAC

Guys- guys! You’ll never guess what we found in the elevator shaft!

FRANK shows up, panting, hunched over.

FRANK

Another dead body!

DENNIS

(Dismissively)

That’s impossible. It never would have fit in-

CHARLIE cuts in, and DENNIS’ jaw visibly tightens.

CHARLIE

Nah- man, it was pretty squished, like- real flat. Probably been there a day or two.

DEE

Great, so we’re dealing with a serial killer.

DENNIS

Well- not technically. Three murders makes a serial killer. Not two, and besides- we don’t even know if it was the same killer.

FRANK

I’m not taking any chances. (He pushes past everyone and walks towards the door.) Can’t run fast as I used to, getting outta this bitch before things get any worse

He tugs on the handles. Then pushes. Nothing happens.

FRANK, (CONT’D)

Alright. Charlie- c’mon, we’re hiding in the broom closet.

Mac grabs the handles and tugs.

MAC

Man- they’re really locked. Bet I could break the glass though.

DENNIS

Don’t-

MAC backs up and runs full force forward, slamming himself against the door. He staggers backwards, slightly stunned, wincing and rubbing his sore shoulder.

MAC

Must be, some kinda real, police grade glass. Otherwise I’d be able to break it.

DENNIS

(Sighs and gently places a hand on MAC’S shoulder)

Alright, well, it looks like we’re stuck here. We stay together, we wait it out. Got it? Someone’s bound to call the police, and we’ll be in the clear.

CHARLIE

(Raises his hand)

Why can’t we call the police again?

DENNIS

(Points at him and raises his brows)

Good question, and- Because I say so, and because I know what I’m doing. Alright- let’s go hide out in the gym locker-room. Plenty of places to hide, plenty of potential weapons if we need them.

FRANK

Nah- I’m sticking with the closet idea, Charlie, you in?

CHARLIE

Sure man, ‘course I am.

DENNIS

Yes- split up! Fine- goddamnit- (He gestures angrily) That’s what every killer wants! (He turns back to the others, exasperated) Are you guys with me?

DEE

(Shrugs)

Yeah, sure, why not.

INT. THE MEN’S LOCKER ROOM IN THE GYM

MAC, DENNIS, and DEE are standing near the entrance.

DENNIS

Alright. Mac- you stay near the door, keep guard, Dee- into one of these lockers. I’ll climb up into the rafters and maintain the element of surprise if necessary. Got it?

INT. THE DARK INTERIOR OF A CLOSET IN WHAT’S PRESUMABLY THE BOILER ROOM

CHARLIE is looking out through the slits in the door, lined shadows playing upon his face. He crinkles up his nose.

CHARLIE

Frank what's that smell, did you- shit your pants what the fuck, Frank, aw it stinks in here.

FRANK

Charlie- charlie, get your hand off me it feels like a goddamn ice cube.

CHARLIE

Dude- I’m not touching you.

FRANK

Aw fuck it's another dead one isn't it, goddamnit I knew it. Alright, get in 'is pockets Charlie, we gotta get outta here, but get his cash first, leave the card or the cops’ll get suspicious when they find him.

CHARLIE

(Shoving the wad of cash into his pocket as FRANK pries open the closet door)

Alright- well, now where do we go?

FRANK

(Shrugs)

Might’as well go meet up with the others.

INT. THE MEN’S LOCKER ROOM IN THE GYM AGAIN

MAC is gripping the corner of the wall, peering around it.

MAC

Yo- Dennis- someone’s coming.  

He glances up at Dennis, who is perched precariously on a thin piece of wood, white knuckles wrapped around another inch thick piece of the rafters. He is uncomfortable, but trying very hard to look as if he is not.

DENNIS

Yeah? What do they look like?

MAC

(Peeking back around the corner)

Not sure yet.

DEE (O.S, FROM INSIDE THE LOCKER)

Well get back in here, don’t let them see you. If they come in here we’ll deal with them then.

MAC shrugs and obliges, sliding into one of the lockers.

DENNIS

(Quietly)

Alright. When you see them, I want you to scream, and I’ll jump down and surprise them. Then jump out of the lockers and ambush them. Got it?

Before MAC or DEE can agree, FRANK enters the room, and MAC lets out a high pitched scream. DENNIS attempts to make a badass leap down from the rafters, but only succeeds in clumsily falling down and landing on top of FRANK. DEE and MAC race out of the lockers, screaming, and pile on top of CHARLIE as he enters. CHARLIE and FRANK, thinking that the other three are the murderers continue to fight back until they finally realize that they’re just beating each other up. Everything goes quiet for a moment and they all freeze mid-fight.

Cut to:

INT. THE MEN’S LOCKER ROOM IN THE GYM, A COUPLE MINUTES LATER  

The gang is sitting in front of the lockers, covered in bruises, scratches, etc. DEE is holding a wet paper-towel over a cut on her forehead. DENNIS is holding up a hand mirror and lamenting over his bruised, swollen left eye. MAC is eating a granola bar and staring vacantly at the wall in front of them. CHARLIE is picking at one of the scratches on his arm. FRANK is bleeding profusely from a large cut on his neck. This doesn’t seem to phase him. The scene is silent for a moment. Finally, DENNIS speaks up.

DENNIS

Well that went poorly.

DEE

Yep.

MAC

Absolutely.

CHARLIE

It was bad.

DENNIS

But you know what- us thinking that each other were the murderers- it got me thinking- what if one of us is the killer?

CHARLIE

Yeah- me and Frank already did that when we were in the closet. But we decided that if it was any of us, it was you.

DEE

Yeah, I agree.

DENNIS

What? Me? Why me?

They shrug.

CHARLIE

You got that- that weird eye thing going on. (He pries open his eyes with his fingers to demonstrate)

DEE

Yeah- yeah. The serial killer eyes. Ever since we were kids.

DENNIS

Oh, screw you guys. If I had done this, I’d have killed all of you assholes first. And besides, I would never be this sloppy. This is just embarrassing. What the- the body in the elevator shaft, the closet- I mean, really, as if those weren’t going to get found. It’s all been done without any- care, any concern for the art.

DEE

See, it’s this kind of weird psycho talk that makes us think you’re the killer.

DENNIS

Shut up, bird.

CHARLIE

Ahhaha she is a bird!

DEE

Oh goddamnit!

CHARLIE, who is sitting beside FRANK, notices that his eyes are closed, and that he didn’t laugh at the bird thing. Strange.

CHARLIE

Frank. Hey- wake up. You missed a funny joke.

FRANK doesn’t respond, and has presumably passed out from blood loss.

DENNIS

Alright, well, we can’t carry him around with us, so. Leave him?

Everyone agrees. They walk out of the locker room but the camera remains focused on FRANK’S unconscious body, slowly zooming in.

Cut to:

INT. A HALLWAY ON THE SECOND FLOOR

DENNIS

Alright, so, our best bet is, again- to stay together. I vote we just keep walking around casually, so if the killer does see us, he won’t know we know, and he’ll leave us alone.

CHARLIE

I don’t know man- we aren’t really sure why he’s killing people. I mean, there hasn’t been any connection that we know of between these people. Maybe he just likes killing.

DENNIS

Oh, so you’re an expert now.

CHARLIE

I just think-

DENNIS

You know what- I don’t care. Get killed all of you, just. Go get killed. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m sticking to the plan. You assholes can do whatever the fuck you want.

He throws his hands up and walks away. MAC, CHARLIE, and DEE walk in the other direction.

MAC

Dude- I think we should just call the police.

CHARLIE

Yeah. I left my phone in Dee’s apartment though.

MAC

Me too. You think we could sneak in and get them?

CHARLIE

Probably.

INT. DEE’S APARTMENT

MAC and CHARLIE are rooting around in the piles of junk on the floor looking for their phones.

MAC

Man, why is this place always such a mess.

DEE

Because you and Dennis trash it all the time.

MAC

You should really keep it cleaner, I mean, don’t you have any feminine- sensibilities or whatever? Isn’t that a thing women do, clean?

DEE

Alright, asshole, I’m going to ignore that. I’m heading to the bathroom. I ate some weird egg salad earlier, and it is not staying down. (She burps as if to prove her point)

MAC

Ew, gross. Did not need to know that. Whatever. Just spray the febreze when you’re done puking or whatever.

MAC and CHARLIE continue tossing trash around, the dead body casually lying in the background. Suddenly a loud crash is heard from the bathroom.

CHARLIE

What was that?

MAC

Sounded like it came from the bathroom.

CHARLIE

You think Dee’s okay?

MAC

How the hell would I know? You wanna check?

MAC keeps looking for their phones. CHARLIE opens up the bathroom door.

CHARLIE

Aw, shit. The toilet seat fell on her head. Dude- dude she’s out cold. Shit.

MAC

Well- I found your phone. You wanna just leave her there till the police come?

CHARLIE

Yeah, I guess. Shit man.

INT. A HALLWAY ON THE FIRST FLOOR

MAC and CHARLIE are leaning against the wall.

CHARLIE

How long until the police come do you think?

MAC

Who knows man, they said like, ten minutes, but like- that’s what the pizza place says and they don’t get here for like, thirty-five.

CHARLIE

Man. Don’t talk about pizza, you’re making me hungry.

MAC

There’s a vending machine on Dee’s floor. You wanna go back up?

CHARLIE

Hell yeah.

INT. A HALLWAY ON THE SECOND FLOOR

A tiny vending machine sits lonesome in a dimly lit cove in the wall. MAC points to it.

MAC

See, right there.

CHARLIE

Aw, sweet.

He begins walking towards it, but before he can get more than a few steps forward, MAC interrupts.

MAC

(Cautiously, voice almost a whisper)

Wait- doesn’t that look like exactly the sort of place a killer would be waiting out? Hang on- let me go check it out, make sure it’s safe, you know.

MAC creeps over towards the machine, trying to be stealthy, but managing to make himself look like a complete ass. He’s about halfway to the machine when he hears a cough from down the hallway and, in a panic, runs towards the window, screaming.

MAC

It’s the killer, save yourself Charlie!

He leaps out the window, glass shattering all across the hallway. CHARLIE runs over to the window and glances down. MAC is unconscious on the ground, legs in a position that legs should never be in.

CHARLIE

AW, shit.

DENNIS, the source of the cough, walks up behind him.

DENNIS

What the hell was that about?

CHARLIE

(Startled)

Shit- goddamnit man- you scared the shit out of both of us.

DENNIS

Apparently.

CHARLIE

You think he’s okay?

DENNIS

(Shrugs)

I’ve seen him recover from worse.

CHARLIE

Aw, phew. Man, he looks bad though.

DENNIS

Nah, he’ll be fine.

CHARLIE walks back over to the vending machine and slips a dollar in.

CHARLIE

It’s just you and me now man. Everyone else is out cold.

DENNIS

What happened to Dee?

CHARLIE

Toilet seat fell on her head.

DENNIS

(Laughs)

That goddamn bitch. Aw. Man, that’s hilarious.

CHARLIE

(Laughing)

Yeah, it was pretty funny.

CHARLIE reaches into the bottom of the vending machine and we see him struggle for a minute before he pulls out what appears to be a human hand.

DENNIS

Is that… a hand?

CHARLIE

Yeah, you know what, I think it is. That’s weird. I’m pretty sure I pressed the button for a bag of chips but-

DENNIS

I bet there’s a whole body in there. Hey, Charlie, reach up in and see if you can pull anything else out.

CHARLIE

Alright.

CHARLIE leans down and starts rooting around in the machine, until he’s all but inside of it. He starts tugging at the severed arm, and the machine starts rocking back and forth.

DENNIS

You should probably be a little more careful. You’re gonna pull the whole thing down.

CHARLIE

Nah man, it’s cool. I almost got it.

That sentence is followed by an immediate crash as the vending machine topples down on top of him. DENNIS sighs.

DENNIS

Just me now. Idiots. Goddamn idiots. (He spins around and raises his voice) Alright! Four murders! I’m impressed. Sloppy, sure, but hey. We’ve all got our own methods. I’m impressed, really, I could never do it. (He begins clapping) Come on out now, game’s over.

A figure in a black mask steps out of the shadows across the hall.

DENNIS

There we go. Yes. Come on over here.

The figure stops right in front of him and takes off the mask, letting her long, brunette hair fall down her back. She smiles at him.

DENNIS

Oh. You’re- a- a woman.

MURDER WOMAN

Absolutely. I’m a woman, and you’re a very handsome man-

She runs her fingers through his hair and leans in, her plump, red lips, inches from his. He-

Mac’s voice suddenly entered the shot,and it began to dissolve, fading to the five of them sitting in Dee’s apartment.

“Now hold on- I was willing to play along with some of that other bullshit, I mean, I never would’ve jumped out the window over a little cough, but this is-”

Dee rolled her eyes. “Look, when you invited everyone to movie night tonight, we were hoping for an actual movie, not one you wrote.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah- the bitch is right for once.”

“It was full of plot holes,” Dee said, shaking her head.

“Totally out of character,” Mac chimed in.

“You know- I didn’t ask for criticism,” Dennis said defensively, holding the script to his chest.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill us?” Dee laughs.

The others join in.

Dennis sits silently, jaw taut, eyes narrowed.

Laughter can still be heard as the screen begins to fade, the camera zooms in on Dennis’ face. “Hip To Be Square” plays.

FADE OUT:

END

[macguires]

I'm so late but I sure hope you're still doing that ask meme because if you are I'm giving you Hannibal and Star Wars. Because I know you too well and I know you'd be waiting ;D - tattlecrimc

YESSSSSSS EDEN BLESS U (i’m assuming you mean this one bc that’s the only one i’ve reblogged recently)

i will ramble horribly on the hannibal one and i’m very sorry about it so i’ll leave that for last so i can put it under a read more

i should probably warn u that the only movie fresh in my memory is the force awakens so all of this is gonna be answered through a v tfa-heavy lens but ok

star wars

three favourite male characters: poe dameron, kylo ren & general hux (DON’T KILL ME i know kylo & hux are awful, the fandom paired w/ my pre-existing love for domhnall gleeson did this to me and i am v ashamed). finn, han solo, bodhi rook, cassian andor, chirrut imwe & luke skywalker are also v dear to me. listen i just have a lot of love to givethree favourite female characters: jessika pava (i’d better see So Much of her in ep8), phasma & padme amidala. & also rey! ‘Needs More Girls’ is my opinion on most franchises but especially star warsfavourite pairing(s): finn/poe, kylo/hux, rey/jessika & han/luke! i also like obi-wan/anakin in the sense that i don’t actively go looking for stuff abt it but when i do see it on my dash my heart does a lil “!!”notp(s): r*ylo is like one of the only ships on my blacklist so that probably tells u something. i’m also p Ew about rey with any of the villains, so that also rules out rey/hux & rey/kylo/hux which i see way too often all over the place. also you wouldn’t think snoke/kylo would be a thing but i’ve seen fics & i’ve seen art and i’ve like cried every single time, experiencing that was my tragic backstory and now i’m a jaded & cynical anti-hero who’s seen Too Much™least favourite character: snoke who’s like me: i’ll hesitantly say padme amidala? i saw the prequels when i was too young to be properly interested in them and i haven’t rewatched them yet so 99% of my knowledge is secondhand, but from what i’ve seen she’s the most relatable most attractive: jessika pava tbh, yet another reason behind me hoping she’s around a lot in the next movie, i am Absolutely in love alreadyfavourite moment/scene: THAT’S MY JACKET(also lowkey the whole starkiller/hosnian system scene, that was shot so impressively w/ the whole ~greatcoat blowing dramatically in wind~ and the brief reaction shot of the people on hosnian prime and the lights shooting across the sky and damn)favourite quote(s): LOTS

“so this is how liberty dies. with thunderous applause.” - padme

“if you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people.” - maz

“mm. lost a planet, master obi-wan has. how embarrassing.” - yoda

“are you kidding me? i’m blind!” - chirrut 

“there’s a problem on the horizon. …there is no horizon.” - k2-so

“so you’re with the resistance?”“obviously. yes, i am. i am with the resistance, yeah. i’m with the resistance.”“i’ve never met a resistance fighter before.”“well, this is what we look like. some of us. others look different.” - rey & finn

“lieutenant, get back to your station!”“just look! we won’t survive. even hux is gone!” - rodinon

“through the ages, i’ve seen evil take many forms: the sith. the empire. today, it is the first order.” - maz

“where is my boyfriend? […] i like that wookiee.” - maz

ok right. now for my favourite thing in the world. the show i don’t shut up about. the universe to which my heart belongs

hannibal

three favourite male characters: will graham, hannibal lecter & anthony dimmondthree favourite female characters: chiyoh, molly graham & reba mcclane (also beverly katz. and freddie lounds. and abigail hobbs. and literally every other girl)favourite pairing(s): hannibal/will, margot/alana, reba/molly, abigail/marissa & jimmy/brian are the ones i pay most attention to, but i’m honestly also down for literally any other f/f ship u can imagine from this shownotp(s): there isn’t anything i would specifically call a notp, but i’m not a huge fan of will/alana or hannibal/alana i guess? just bc as much as i love will & hannibal, alana deserves 1000x better and i lovelovelove her with margot. i also dislike mason with literally anyone for what i would hope are obvious reasons. i also tend to be kinda cringey about abigail with will or hannibal in a romantic/sexual sense bc it’s made very clear that their relationship with her is parent/child and that she’s a teenager so it feels v creepy to meleast favourite character: i like them enough as characters but i’ll say francis dolarhyde & mason verger. bc everything mason does ever makes me feel vaguely ill and my first impression of francis dolarhyde was him stretching and grunting @ his mirror in briefs w/ Glistening Muscles and i was done with That and ready to move on in under 0.00002 seconds but it just….. kept happeningwho’s most like me: peter bernardone, abigail hobbs & s1!will graham most attractive: chiyoh! i was literally Gone from the second we saw her through will’s goddamn binoculars favourite moment/scene: literally every second of dark!will i am so here for that. every moment from when he attacked freddie in the barn and then. u know. ate randall tier with hannibal, the whole ~i’ve given up good & evil for behaviourism~ conversation and the knife exchange in the kitchen. also him bringing randall’s body to hannibal in the middle of the night like some dog looking for approval wtf. and obviously him & hannibal double-teaming & killing francis in the season finale and running the fuck away together and then coming back to eat bedelia like I JUST REALLY LOVE DARK!WILLfavourite quote(s): i have SO MANY. some of them i just think are gorgeous and thought-provoking, some i like for shippy reasons or bc they were super chilling or Ominous on a rewatch/paired with later context, and some i just find straight-up hilarious

hannibal: “i’ve always found the idea of death comforting. the thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty and art and horror of everything this world has to offer.”

hannibal: “the essence of the worst in the human spirit is not found in the crazy sons-of-bitches. ugliness is found in the faces of the crowd.”  

jack: “you remember when you decided to call hannibal?”will: “i wasn’t decided when i called him. i just called him. i deliberated while the phone rang… i decided when i heard his voice.”jack: “you told him we knew.” will: “i told him to leave, because i wanted him to run.”jack: “why?”will: “because… because he was my friend. and because i wanted to run away with him.” 

hannibal: “you cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love.” 

will: “i’ve never known myself as well as i know myself… when i’m with him.” 

hannibal: “when the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes a-running. but not to help. when you hear jack scream, why will you come running?”

chiyoh: “you have a taste for it now.”will: “for what?”chiyoh: “harm.”will: “do you?”chiyoh: “i was violent when it was the right thing to do. but i think you like it. […] if you don’t kill him, you’re afraid you’re going to become him.”will: “yes.”

freddie: “i’ve interviewed enough serial killers to know one when i see one. […] a very specific brand of hostility. i see it every time i look at will graham.” 

gray: “there is no god.”hannibal: “well, not with that attitude.” 

hannibal: “hello! i love your work.” (YOU NEED CONTEXT FOR THIS ONE BUT I LOVE IT)

guest: “it smells divine!”hannibal: “it is! i say that without ego. i don’t require conventional reinforcement.” 

hannibal: “that may have been impulsive.”

hannibal: “a paradox.”alana: “freddie lounds thinks the two of you are a paradox. she sees something no one else sees.”will: “and what’s that?”alana: “that neither of you is the killer she’s writing about… but together you might be.” 

will: “i’d pack my bags if i were you, bedelia. meat’s back on the menu. […] ready or not, here he comes.” 

freddie: “what will understands is that if you can’t beat hannibal lecter… join him.” 

hannibal: “what’s the meat? veal? pork?”will: “she was a slim and delicate pig.”hannibal: “i’ll make you lomo soltado. we’ll make it together. …you slice the ginger.” […]hannibal: “this meat is not pork.”will: “it’s long pig.” (RIDICULOUS. now they’re both making puns while eating people)

will: “is hannibal in love with me?”bedelia: “could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment at the very sight of you? yes. but do you ache for him?”  

[ogwnostalgia]

Cover art by Mike Vosberg

Title: The Secret

Series: Tales From the Crypt

Original Airdate: July 31, 1990

Description: A 12-year-old orphan is adopted by a rich childless couple (William Frankfather and Grace Zabriskie) who harbor a dark secret. However, the couple themselves do not realize that the young orphan has a dark secret of his own.

Note: This wasn’t actually the cover photo I wanted to use, but every screencap I could find was way too spoilery. So instead, enjoy the episode art that the Cryptkeeper shows us going into the episode.

  Nostalgia Time!

Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these full moon werewolf recaps, huh? I’m really slacking on them! But here we have the second of the two whole werewolf episodes Tales From the Crypt ever did, and like the other one, this one also has vampires. Well, who doesn’t like vampires with their werewolves, I guess.

So, I really dig this episode. I know I didn’t include it in my favorites list I published a while back, but for a while I had this episode on constant rotation. Due in part to Larry Drake, whose performances I always enjoy. (RIP. And seriously, he’s the only good thing about Dr. Giggles.) Vampires, werewolves, mysterious goings-on . . . yeah, this episode sells it hard.

Recap

We open, of course, with Cryptkeeper intro. He’s surprisingly sedate (for him, at least), and just makes a few Charles Dickens puns in reference to the copy of Oliver Twist he’s reading. He’s disappointed that there was no twist, because he had such Great Expectations. Yeah. Moving on.

The story opens on a dark and stormy night at the Gaines Orphanage. We follow a young boy in pajamas and a coonskin cap (because this is the 50s? Unclear.) sneaking down the stairs inside. We can hear one woman telling another that these boys can’t be trusted, and we fade out on their conversation as Coonskin Cap makes his way into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He grabs a chicken drumstick that’s just sitting uncovered by itself on a plate, and puts back just the bone a few seconds later. Ew?

The boy grabs an apple that is also sitting on a plate in the fridge for some fucking reason, and makes his way back out of the kitchen. We can now hear Older Woman telling Younger Woman that the boys cheat off each other’s papers, while Younger Woman protests that she’s never witnessed that. They move out to the room Boy is in as Older Woman says that they have to do something about Theodore – he’s way past the desirable age for adoption. From the indignant look on Boy’s face, we surmise that he is Theodore. He is also hiding pretty much in plain sight under a table.

Younger Woman wants to know what happened to his parents, and Older Woman snaps that she must never mention his parents, or his behavior problems! Well, okay. That’s not super suspicious or anything.

Then Theodore drops the apple, which rolls right up to Older Woman’s feet. Smooth, kiddo.

Older Woman (whose name is Miss Hagstead) drags Theodore out from under the table and accuses him of spying. Nope, he was just hungry, because he’s bigger than the other kids. Miss Hagstead orders Younger Woman to take him back to his room, “and make sure he stays there,” while brandishing a key. I’m pretty sure locking kids in their rooms at an orphanage violates fire codes or something, but sure. Asshole.

Younger Woman (now known as Miss Heather) walks Theodore upstairs while telling him the meal plan for tomorrow, because this kid is apparently a bottomless pit, and much like my little dog, extremely food-motivated. We transition to a shot of clouds revealing a full moon. No werewolf action yet, though. We’re only 4 minutes in, after all.

The next morning, Miss Heather frantically reports to Miss Hagstead that Theodore is gone and his window is open! Miss Hagstead is annoyed, not worried. He throws these temper tantrums sometimes and runs off for a few hours. Oh. Is it always during the . . . full moon . . . ?

Cut to the door opening and Theodore standing on the porch, covered in dirt. Miss Hagstead yells at him, then orders him to the kitchen to help Joey with the dishes. As he walks by, she complains that “it’s getting worse.” Oh . . . ?

Miss Heather rocks up and sends Joey out of the kitchen so she can tell Theo that some people are coming by later tonight and are very interested in meeting him. He knows what this means, right? Well, normally it could mean adoption and happily ever after, but this is Tales From the Crypt, so.

New Mom might have stolen that jacket from Cruella de Vil

Cut to these two weirdos showing up and telling Theo that he’s perfect and they’ll take him. Like he’s a puppy in a store window. Or a tasty veal cutlet at the butcher’s shop. (Spoilers?)

Theo asks what if he doesn’t want to go, and New Mom (Mrs. Colbert) tempts him with living in the lap of luxury – he’ll have his own bathroom and towels with his initials on them! Wow, just what every 12-year-old boy dreams of!

Miss Hagstead, on the other hand, is clearly using every ounce of self-control not to scream, “Now listen you little shit, you’re going! End of story!”

Oh, spoke too soon. Miss Hagstead pulls Theo off to the kitchen to “help her make tea” and proceeds to basically scream exactly that at him. He asks what happened to his real parents, and she says they died when he was just a baby, but refuses to provide details. She tells him the Colberts are “a little eccentric” but they’ll provide him with a lovely home and lots of good, sweet things to eat.

Okay, I was joking about Theo being like a food-motivated dog, but apparently everyone else was dead serious about it. Huh.

There’s a moody shot of Larry Drake, who is the Colberts’ . . . butler? valet? something? and then Theo staring moodily out the back of a car while Miss Heather and the Orphan Boys wave goodbye. Also, the lighting is so blue it’s almost impossible to see what’s happening.

There’s voice over from Mrs. Colbert as they drive away, talking about how wonderful Theo will have it at his new home, and she asks her husband, “Won’t it be wonderful having him?” He replies, “Mmm. Wonderful. Having him.” Yes, yes, this is normal, nothing to worry about!

They pull up to the house and holy shit everything onscreen is so blue I can’t tell what anything looks like, goddamn. Fortunately the interior of the house has normal lighting. I really don’t know what they were thinking with this fucking blue filter, but whatever. Theo comments that it looks like a museum, and as he reaches out to touch a huge . . . urn? vase? a Rottweiler rocks up out of nowhere to bark and growl at him. New Mom tells him he must never touch anything; some of these pieces are very old.

So. We have foster/adoptive parents who have things at touching-height that the kids aren’t allowed to touch, and the presence of Grace Zabriskie? Is this just Child’s Play 2 all over again?

The Colberts and Larry Drake show Theo to his room, which is huge and contains tons of toys, including a model train going around its track and blowing a whistle. Theo turns to thank them, but all the adults have exited the room and locked him in. He runs to look out the keyhole, where New Mom is telling New Dad that he’s been so patient, while Theo calls out asking why they’ve locked him in. They walk off, ignoring him, and now it’s time for Doggie Jump Scare! as the Rottie (Mrs. Colbert called Doggie by name, but I don’t have captions and I can’t for the life of me figure out what she called him) jumps at the door, barking and growling.

Theo falls backwards to the floor, and exclaims, “What did Mrs. Hagstead tell them?!”

Well, Theo, she wanted to get rid of you, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

Theo is woken up the next morning by Larry Drake, AKA Tobias, serving him breakfast in bed. Well, I suppose it’s breakfast in the technical sense of it’s breaking his fast, but it’s all sweets – cake, pie, when Theo asks for milk, Tobias offers him a milkshake. Ooh, does it bring all the werewolves to the yard?

Theo notices there are bars on the windows, and Tobias assures him that there are bars on all the windows – for security. Eh, that might have been weird in the (I’m still not sure but possibly) 1950s, but it doesn’t really raise many eyebrows today.

Cue a montage of Theo playing with all his new toys, and eating enough cakes, eclairs, pie, and milkshakes for it to qualify as a miracle he doesn’t go into diabetic shock. Nope, nothing to worry about here; this isn’t a Hansel and Gretel story, so you should be perfectly safe!

Cut to this new little family all walking around the estate together, and Theo asking why he has to stay in his room all day while the Colberts are at “work.” Mm, work, yes. Definitely work. New Mom answers that Theo is the most precious thing they have, and they can’t risk something happening to him. And Tobias is far too old to be chasing after him in the woods. Umm, Larry Drake was 40 when this episode aired. I turn 39 in less than two weeks. I feel very insulted right now. Not that I want to chase 12-year-olds around in the woods, but still. Very insulted.

Theo goes on to ask if they can go out sometime and do something together like a real family – a movie, roller skating, a ballgame? I’m trying to picture these weirdos on roller skates, and honestly, it’s kinda hilarious. Anyway, they claim they’re busy tomorrow planning a surprise for Theo. It’s a secret, though. Theo hates secrets.

Tobias stares pensively after them as he falls behind with Doggie. At least, I think he does. This blue filter is pretty much the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Cut to Tobias bringing Theo yet more junk food for lunch. Somehow, Theo isn’t dying of malnutrition yet. He asks if Tobias can come back and see him before dinner, and Tobias says he supposes he can stop by and they can play cards or something.

Cue the “Theo and Tobias become friends” montage.

Theo thinks about fun times he had at the orphanage with Miss Heather and his friends, and is suddenly . . . homesick, I guess it would be? Kind of? He asks where the Colberts are, and just as Tobias says they’re indisposed, they burst into the room with party horns and a birthday cake, yelling “Surprise!”

Theo is surprised, mostly because it isn’t his birthday. New Mom brushes it off – of course it’s not his birthday; it wouldn’t be a surprise if it was. Then they dish up about half the cake onto a plate for him, because they clearly want him to go into insulin shock. Theo’s not hungry because he had two boxes of Crackerjacks about an hour ago. Gross.

The Colberts tell Theo they’re going out to paint the town red. Yes. Yes, I bet you are. They call him “son” and tell him to open his presents and have fun with Tobias.

Cut to Tobias bonding with Theo as he tucks him into bed. Tobias was also an orphan who never got adopted; he agrees that Theo may call him “Toby” since Theo used to know a Tobias at his orphanage who went by Toby. Then Mrs. Colbert calls Tobias out of the room.

Later that night, Theo is woken up by the Colberts talking outside his door. New Mom says that this was her idea; she calls the shots; and she’ll say when their little orphan delicacy is ready for . . . whatever this is. They open the door and stare at Theo, who pretends to be asleep, and New Mom says she doesn’t think she can wait much longer. They’ll tell Theo their secret when they get home tonight.

I’m . . . sure it’s a fun secret, right? . . . right?

Time passes until it’s four thirty in the damn morning, and someone unlocks Theo’s bedroom door. Oh, it’s Toby! He rushes in to wake Theo up, telling him they have to get out of here. Theo moans that he doesn’t feel well.

Yeah, no shit. You’ve just spent what I’m about to guess is a full month eating roughly the same amount of sugar as Brazil exports in a year; what did you expect?

They start to make their way down the stairs, but are stopped by Mrs. Colbert, who looks considerably more vampish than we’ve seen previously. Apparently Tobias was promised immortality in exchange for his babysitting services, but he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want Theo to end up vampire chow.

Mrs. Colbert protests that his blood is so sweet now, and . . . okay. So, they’ve been feeding him nothing but sugar so that his blood will taste sweet to them? They’re vampires with a sweet tooth? That’s . . . okay. Sure. I mean, they couldn’t just get a mouthful of blood, pour some sugar on me in their mouths, and shake it around? Their plot seems overly complicated, is all I’m saying.

Anyway, Mr. Colbert appears out of nowhere on the stairs above Tobias, and bites into him while Theo laments his new friend’s demise. Theo jumps down the stairs and runs out the door as Mrs. Colbert sends Doggie after him, commanding Doggie to leave some for them.

Theo runs off into the woods; Doggie chases after; we’re shown a full moon as the Colberts join the chase, so I was right – it’s been a full month. A month of no food except sweets. I’m feeling sick just thinking about it.

Theo stumbles and falls as Doggie (it sounds like New Dad calls him “Lalitu”? “Laleetoo”? I don’t fucking know, y’all) catches up to him. The Colberts come out of the blueness darkness and we hear growling.

Theo is on his hands and knees facing away from the Colberts, and as they approach he tells them that now he knows what happened to his parents. You see, he has a secret too, and it’s better than the Colberts’. New Mom is the picture of condescending boredom, telling Theo that she’s sure he does. As Theo continues, his voice gets deeper and growlier. He turns around to reveal that he is a werewolf – with a taste for vampires!

I’m not quite sure how he would know that, but you do you, kiddo.

He leaps at Mrs. Colbert and rips her throat out (again, I think. This deep blue everything is a bitch for actually seeing what’s happening), then takes off after Mr. Colbert, who has started running away like a little bitch. Theo catches up to him, and he screams as we fade to black . . .

. . . and cut to the interior of the orphanage as someone pounds on the front door. Mrs. Hagstead opens the door to reveal Theo and Doggie on the porch. Theo tells her that he knows his secret now, and he thinks some things are going to change around here. He stares at her, and there’s wolf-face superimposed over his kid-face. Mrs. Hagstead is terrified, a wolf howls, and we fade to black again.

And then we get the Cryptkeeper’s wrap-up and exit puns. They’re not worth spending space on here. Sorry, Crypty.

Nostalgia Glasses Off

So yeah. This werewolf episode took basically the entire episode to werewolf. And to vampire, for what it’s worth.

So, what are we to believe did happen to Theo’s parents? We can assume they were also werewolves, right? Are we to believe they were killed by . . . werewolf hunters? Vampires? Buffy? Sam and Dean? The episode treats it like we should just know, and I really don’t.

I still like this episode a lot, but I think it’s fallen off of my favorites list. There’s not much to it when you boil it down.

Except diabeetus. This episode is full of diabeetus.

(Note: Wilford Brimley passed away the day after I finished this recap (including inserting these images), and a couple days before it was scheduled to go up. Weird coincidence. RIP, and thanks for the memes, sir.)

  Well, it's another full moon, so you know what that means - time for a werewolf story! This month I recapped the Tales From the Crypt episode, The Secret! Can you guess what the secret is? I bet you can! (The secret is ... diabeetus!) Title: The Secret Series: Tales From the Crypt Original Airdate: July 31, 1990 Description: A 12-year-old orphan is adopted by a rich childless couple (William Frankfather and Grace Zabriskie) who harbor a dark secret.

[biofunmy]

Robert Frank Dies; Pivotal Documentary Photographer Was 94

Robert Frank, one of the most influential photographers of the 20th century, whose visually raw and personally expressive style was pivotal in changing the course of documentary photography, died on Monday in Inverness, Nova Scotia. He was 94.

His death, at Inverness Consolidated Memorial Hospital on Cape Breton Island, was confirmed by Peter MacGill, whose Pace-MacGill Gallery in Manhattan has represented Mr. Frank’s work since 1983. Mr. Frank, a Manhattan resident, had long had a summer home in Mabou, on Cape Breton Island.

Born in Switzerland, Mr. Frank emigrated to New York at the age of 23 as an artistic refugee from what he considered to be the small-minded values of his native country. He was best known for his groundbreaking book, “The Americans,” a masterwork of black and white photographs drawn from his cross-country road trips in the mid-1950s and published in 1959.

[Read our appraisal describing how Robert Frank redefined the expressive potential of documentary photography — until he gave it up.]

“The Americans” challenged the presiding midcentury formula for photojournalism, defined by sharp, well-lighted, classically composed pictures, whether of the battlefront, the homespun American heartland or movie stars at leisure. Mr. Frank’s photographs — of lone individuals, teenage couples, groups at funerals and odd spoors of cultural life — were cinematic, immediate, off-kilter and grainy, like early television transmissions of the period. They would secure his place in photography’s pantheon. The cultural critic Janet Malcolm called him the “Manet of the new photography.”

But recognition was by no means immediate. The pictures were initially considered warped, smudgy, bitter. Popular Photography magazine complained about their “meaningless blur, grain, muddy exposures, drunken horizons, and general sloppiness.” Mr. Frank, the magazine said, was “a joyless man who hates the country of his adoption.”

Mr. Frank had come to detest the American drive for conformity, and the book was thought to be an indictment of American society, stripping away the picture-perfect vision of the country and its veneer of breezy optimism put forward in magazines and movies and on television. Yet at the core of his social criticism was a romantic idea about finding and honoring what was true and good about the United States.

“Patriotism, optimism, and scrubbed suburban living were the rule of the day,” Charlie LeDuff wrote about Mr. Frank in Vanity Fair magazine in 2008. “Myth was important then. And along comes Robert Frank, the hairy homunculus, the European Jew with his 35-mm. Leica, taking snaps of old angry white men, young angry black men, severe disapproving southern ladies, Indians in saloons, he/shes in New York alleyways, alienation on the assembly line, segregation south of the Mason-Dixon line, bitterness, dissipation, discontent.”

“Les Americains,” first published in France by Robert Delpire in 1958, used Mr. Frank’s photographs as illustrations for essays by French writers. In the American edition, published the next year by Grove Press, the pictures were allowed to tell their own story, without text, as Mr. Frank had conceived the book.

It was only after completing the cross-country trips chronicled in “The Americans” that Mr. Frank met Jack Kerouac, who had written about his own American journeys in the 1957 novel “On the Road.” Kerouac wrote the introduction to the American edition of Mr. Frank’s book.

“That crazy feeling in America,” Kerouac wrote, “when the sun is hot and music comes out of the jukebox or from a nearby funeral, that’s what Robert Frank has captured in tremendous photographs taken as he traveled on the road around practically forty-eight states in an old used car (on Guggenheim Fellowship) and with agility, mystery, genius, sadness, and strange secrecy of a shadow photographed scenes that have never been seen before on film.”

Twenty years later, Gene Thornton, writing in The New York Times, said the book ranked “with Alexis de Tocqueville’s ‘Democracy in America’ and Henry James’ ‘The American Scene’ as one of the definitive statements of what this country is about.”

‘Snapshot Aesthetic’

Mr. Frank may well have been the unwitting father of what became known in the late 1960s as “the snapshot aesthetic,” a personal offhand style that sought to capture the look and feel of spontaneity in an authentic moment. The pictures had a profound influence on the way photographers began to approach not only their subjects but also the picture frame.

Mr. Frank’s aesthetic — as much about his personal experience of what he was photographing as about the subject matter — was given further definition and legitimacy in 1967 in the seminal exhibition “New Documents” at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The show presented the work of Diane Arbus, Lee Friedlander and Garry Winogrand, who at the time were relatively little known younger-generation beneficiaries of Mr. Frank’s pioneering style. The show established all three as important American artists.

Robert Louis Frank was born in Zurich on Nov. 9, 1924, the younger son of well-to-do Jewish parents. His mother, Regina, was Swiss, but his father, Hermann, a German citizen who became stateless after World War I, had to apply for Swiss citizenship for himself and his two sons.

[Read about how Robert Frank brought a uniquely Jewish approach to his art.]

Safe in neutral Switzerland from the Nazi threat looming across Europe, Robert Frank studied and apprenticed with graphic designers and photographers in Zurich, Basel and Geneva. He became an admirer of Henri Cartier-Bresson, who co-founded the photo-collective Magnum in 1947 and whose photographs set the standard for generations of photojournalists.

Mr. Frank would later reject Cartier-Bresson’s work, saying it represented all that was glib and insubstantial about photojournalism. He believed that photojournalism oversimplified the world, mimicking, as he put it, “those goddamned stories with a beginning and an end.” He was more drawn to the paintings of Edward Hopper, before Hopper was widely recognized.

“So clear and so decisive,” Mr. Frank told Nicholas Dawidoff in 2015 for a profile in The New York Times Magazine. “The human form in it. You look twice — what’s this guy waiting for? What’s he looking at? The simplicity of two facing each other. A man in a chair.”

Early on, Mr. Frank caught the eye of Alexey Brodovitch, the legendary magazine art director, who gave him assignments at Harper’s Bazaar. Over the next 10 years, Mr. Frank worked for Fortune, Life, Look, McCall’s, Vogue and Ladies Home Journal.

Restless, he traveled to London, Wales and Peru from 1949 to 1952. From each trip he assembled spiral-bound books of his pictures and gave copies to, among others, Brodovitch and Edward Steichen, then the director of photography at the Museum of Modern Art.

Walker Evans’s book “American Photographs,” which was not well known in the 1950s, may have been the greatest influence on Mr. Frank’s landmark “Americans” project.

“When I first looked at Walker Evans’ photographs,” he wrote in the U.S. Camera Annual in 1958, “I thought of something Malraux wrote: ‘to transform destiny into awareness.’ One is embarrassed to want so much of oneself.”

Evans, then the picture editor at Fortune, as well as Brodovitch and Steichen, wrote recommendations for Mr. Frank when he applied for a 1955 Guggenheim Fellowship to finance the project. Carrying two cameras and boxes of film in a black Ford Business Coupe, he traveled more than 10,000 miles and wound up taking, by his count, more than 27,000 pictures, from which he culled 83 for “The Americans.”

In 1949, he met the artist Mary Lockspeiser, nine years his junior, and gave her, too, a handmade book of photographs, which he had taken that year in Paris. They married the following year and settled in Manhattan, in the East Village, in the heart of a vibrant Abstract Expressionist art scene. (She is now known as Mary Frank.)

Mr. Frank remembered seeing through a window Willem de Kooning, paint brush in hand, pacing his studio in his underwear. At the Cedar Tavern, a legendary neighborhood bar, he would drink and argue with the artists of the period. Their son, Pablo (named after the cellist Pablo Casals), was born in 1951, and his daughter, Andrea, in 1954.

All the while Mr. Frank supported himself sporadically, if reluctantly, with commercial work. Just before the American edition of “The Americans” was published, Lou Silverstein, The Times’s art director then, hired him to make a series of photographs on the streets of New York for an advertising campaign for the newspaper titled “New York Is.” The pictures were later compiled in a slim promotional book of the same name to attract prospective advertisers.

For all their commercial intent, however, the pictures for The Times revealed a strain of loneliness similar to what runs through “The Americans.” After Mr. Silverstein died in 2011, Mr. Frank sent a note to his memorial service and had it read aloud, saying, “He gave me moral support as well as financial — and this made my life in New York City possible.”

After “The Americans” was published, Mr. Frank’s artistic energies shifted to film, and, although he continued to work in photography and video, he would never again reach the same level of recognition for his work. Mr. MacGill, a longtime friend, once posited that Mr. Frank would eventually be remembered as a filmmaker more than as a photographer.

The Scene: A Bohemian Loft

His first film, “Pull My Daisy” (1959), is a cornerstone of avant-garde cinema. Made in Alfred Leslie’s art studio loft in the East Village, it was co-directed by Leslie, narrated by Kerouac and featured, among others, Allen Ginsberg, Mary Frank, Gregory Corso, David Amram, Larry Rivers and Mr. Frank’s young son, Pablo.

Adapted by Kerouac from his play “The Beat Generation,” the film, 28 minutes long, follows in grainy black and white the antics of a merry band of bohemians who show up unannounced at a Lower East Side loft, where a painter, the wife of a railway brakeman, has invited a respectable bishop over for dinner. The film became a cult favorite as an expression of the Beat philosophy of improvisation and spontaneity even though, as Leslie later revealed, it was planned and rehearsed.

In 1960, Mr. Frank, along with Jonas Mekas (who died in January), Peter Bogdanovich and other independent filmmakers, founded the New American Cinema Group, the same year Mr. Frank began filming “The Sin of Jesus,” based on an Isaac Babel story.

He made his first feature-length film in 1965, “Me and My Brother,” about Julius Orlovsky, brother of Peter, who was Ginsberg’s lover. With this film, Mr. Frank began to blur the line between documentary filmmaking and staged narrative scenes.

The breakup of his marriage to Mary in 1969 coincided with “Conversations in Vermont,” the film he made about his children, Andrea and Pablo. The next year he bought a fisherman’s house in Mabou, Nova Scotia, with the artist June Leaf, whom he married in 1975 and who is his only immediate survivor. Andrea died in a plane crash in Guatemala in 1974; Pablo died in 1994.

In the early 1970s, Mr. Frank was commissioned to make photographs for the cover of the Rolling Stones album “Exile on Main Street.” He was then asked by the band to shoot a documentary film about its 1972 concert tour. The film chronicled not only the group’s performances but also the violence of the crowds, the drug use and the naked groupies. It was not what the Stones had in mind. The band obtained a restraining order, which put limits on where and how often the film could be shown.

That same year, Frank published “Lines of My Hand,” a book of photographs he had made before and after “The Americans.” His work was becoming more autobiographical, diaristic.

While the photographs in “The Americans” are the most widely acknowledged achievement of Mr. Frank’s career, they can be seen as a prelude to his subsequent artistic work, in which he explored a variety of mediums, using multiple frames, making large Polaroid prints, video images, experimenting with words and images and shooting and directing films, like “Candy Mountain” (1988), an autobiographical road film directed with Rudy Wurlitzer.

Still, it is “The Americans” that will probably endure longer than anything else he did. In 2007 he consented to hang all 83 of the book’s photographs at the Pingyao International Photography Festival in China, in celebration of the book’s 50th anniversary. And in 2009, the National Gallery of Art in Washington mounted “Looking In: Robert Frank’s ‘The Americans,’” an exhaustive and comprehensive retrospective of his masterwork, organized by Sarah Greenough. The show traveled to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

Mr. Frank acknowledged that in photographing Americans he found the least privileged among them the most compelling.

“My mother asked me, ‘Why do you always take pictures of poor people?’” Mr. Frank told Mr. Dawidoff in The Times Magazine. “It wasn’t true, but my sympathies were with people who struggled. There was also my mistrust of people who made the rules.”

William McDonald contributed reporting.

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