#stuff made in Python

[kurios-development-hell]

It's finally here! My little "demo" of what I've been coding for months little by little in Python, to prepare a base for my AU stories. Master Swatch has a message to tell you, will you listen to his words? 👀

Today ephemeris is my saint (falls on 6th of January), which is also national holiday in my country. What a nice day to release this brainchild 👏

Hope you like this scene I has been crunching since the 1st of January 😁 If you go to watch it on my YouTube channel for the HD version or more commodity -- where I plan to upload all my AU shorts from now on -- consider to [[SUBSCRIBE]] and give a [[LIKE]] to start nudging my channel into the [[BIG-SHOT]] zone 🚀 Here is the [[LINK]] 👇

((like, it asks for 500 subs for starters with the partnership -- the curve is more steep than the road to affiliate on Twitch's apparently, hmm... 🤔))

More to come in the future, as the framework for the fantasy of my AU is working quite well. If you wonder about when the visual-novel game is going to be released, that will be far flung into the future. I need to acquire more economic stability (like getting a job 🙇‍♂️) before making the game and releasing it into the world. But meanwhile, you'll be able to interact with my characters and see a glimpse about them and their personal stories before the main game is released, which is pretty dope, isn't it? 😋 Take them as a preface to the main story, whenever I'll be able to focus on the main game without scrambling each month to make ends meet (kromer doesn't grow on charred black egg bearing trees, you know?)

Anyway, hope you feel my video enough motivational to usher you into awesome feats for this year 😎 Believe in yourself and remember, little by little, drop by drop, you can fill up a sea! (even if it takes a [[REAL LONG TIME]] to happen). Patience has its rewards, but don't forget to take good care of yourself while at it 😊

Until then, and thanks for all the support, and for enduring with all my impecunious Spamtonian shortcomings 👋

[yonderghostshistories]

Me waiting for a potential video essay on YouTube that explores and analyses the Queer/LGBTQ+ representation in Monty Python (in both the Tv Show and the Films) :

[starbuck]

going into my final week of classes and we always have one last week after the final paper (so the professors have time for grading) where typically the only work we have is one last discussion post.

usually, this post is pretty simple and light (to go easy on us after the final). my ethics class is like “summarize your conclusions from your final paper! :)” and my communications class is like “tell the class about your career goals! :)”

meanwhile, statistics…

[aroacemytholover]

@staff hall of fame?

[justagirlswrld]

Rule #1: Cardio

a/n: short and sweet. Rick Grimes the man that you are.

summary: you’re stuck with Rick and decide to use the time wisely.

warnings: stuck somewhere cliche. fem reader. p in v. established relationship?

The sound of your boots hitting the pavement matched the rapid drumming of your heart perfectly. Your muscles ached, you could barely breathe but the sound of the dead behind you propelled your body in a way you’d never moved before.

It was supposed to be a simple run.

You and Rick planned to go to the small super market you’d seen the day before, scavenge what you could and be home before dinner.

But life has a funny way of never going how you plan it.

You were getting close to the destination when the beat up car you two were in started smoking and refused to move. You watched Rick slam his fist on the rusting hood before you collected all of your things from the car and decided that you’d (hopefully) find on your way back.

You and Rick walked in silence under the sweltering Georgia sun, it was almost peaceful…until you turned a corner and were almost pulled into a horde of the dead. Too in your own thoughts to hear their eerie snarls. You scream before you can swallow it down, stabbing a walker that was hanging onto the jacket around your waist.

Now, you were running for your life from the shambling corpses behind you. Rick was yelling at you to keep up as he ran a few paces in front of you. You wanted to remind him that not everyone was a sheriff in their past life but you could barely get a breath out, let alone that many words.

You were so scared and tired that you didn’t notice that you’d made it to the market, you would’ve ran past it if Rick didn’t yell your name from his place in the threshold of the back door. He grabs you by your forearm and hauls you into the store with him. He stabs two walkers before they can follow you in and slams the door behind you.

You’re bent over with both hands on the knees of your dirty jeans as you try to collect yourself, you can hear Rick moving heavier items in front of the door over your labored breathing.

When you can breathe normally you take a small sip of the water from your canteen and look to Rick, who’s already looking at you, a smirk fighting through the thick beard on his face.

“How’d you survive this long and you’re still outta shape?”, you flick him off in response and he lets out a laugh. “We’ll stay here. Wait it out. I’ll let the group know.”, Rick doesn’t wait for you to respond as he starts speaking on his walkie talkie, moving to rummage through the aisle closet to him.

You don’t find much. A couple canned items, a stale bag of chips, and some soap were all you put in your pack after searching for a couple aisles. With the way everything was turned over you assumed the next aisles were picked clean too. But still you searched with ever-depleting morale.

Not a second after stumbling into the pharmacy section you step on an item you’d never thought you’d see again: an unopened, unexpired, pack of condoms. For some reason you were more excited to find these than the food or the soap.

You snatch them up and stuff them into your back pocket, trying not to run as you make your way to Rick. When you find him he’s lying on a pallet on the hard floor, dog bed folded comfortably under his head.

Rick opens his eyes lazily when you approach, hand removing the colt python on his chest as he sits up to greet you. “What’d you find?”, Rick says huskily as he rubs the sleep from his face. You’re already clenching in anticipation as you pull the foil out of your back pocket and throw them into Rick’s lap with an ear splitting grin.

He picks them up slowly, Rick’s full lips mirror yours as you both kick off your boots. Rick moves the revolver to the ground as you crawl onto the pallet beside him.

“You sure you ain’t too tired?”, Rick says playfully as he lifts his hips to help you pull his ragged jeans off. Once they’re on the floor he pulls you into his lap, hands instantly finding their place on your waist. “You sure you’re not too tired, old man? You were the one nappin’ .” You quip back before kissing him. It’s soft and sweet and his mouth tastes like the gum you found earlier.

Rick lets out a low moan when you softly pull his brown locks to bare his neck to you. You groan with him as you suck and lick on the fair skin there before moving onto nibble his ear. The rough hand that was kneading the fat of your thigh tenses then relaxes when you lick a stripe from his ear to his throat to kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple.

Rick pops open the button of your jeans then pulls down the worn zipper before sneaking his nimble fingers into your panties to rub on your ever-slickening sex. His other hand moving from your thigh to under your bra, rolling your nipple between calloused fingers.

When you can pull yourself from Rick’s wondering hands you move from his lap to lie between his toned thighs. He smells like musk and sweat as you take him from his underwear and into your warm mouth.

Rick’s breath hitches as you begin bobbing on his soft length. He has a comforting hand tangled in your hair, his sky blue eyes never leaving yours. When he’s rock hard and your tongue is covered in salty, precum you take him from your mouth and roll on the latex condom.

Rick wastes no time pushing you back on the pallet then ripping off your jeans and panties in one fell swoop. He pushes your thighs to your chest before he bullies two fingers into your awaiting heat. You call Rick’s name as you watch him stretch you open with his slender digits.

Rick watches your face for a moment as it contorts in pleasure, the sight of him biting his full bottom lip has you fluttering around his fingers. You grab his wrist to stop yourself from crying out when he curls them, his rough thumb circling your swollen clit.

When he pulls his fingers from you they shine in the sliver moonlight gleaming from the small window above you.

Rick lubes himself up with your slick, the way his pink tip bumps your clit every so often has your heart ready to beat out your chest (and your pussy).

You bite your lip to hold back the moan that threatened to escape when Rick finally pushes into you. He’s able to slide into your tight cunt with little resistance, you’ve wanted to fuck Rick for weeks. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had your fix. “I missed fucking you.” You whisper the confession up at Rick, twisting your hand into the bottom of his shirt when his hips meet yours. The soft, curly hair that framed his cock brushing against you.

Rick uses his forearm to keep your thighs pinned to your chest as he watches moans slip from your kiss swollen lips. He can’t resist reaching down and giving you another one as he ruts into you, the position giving him the perfect angle for his thick, cock to bump into your soft, cervix.

His cock is dragging in and out of you deliciously, it’s enough friction for your toes to curl and the band in your stomach to begin to tighten.

Rick starts whispering praises to you when he sees you getting closer to your release, “This pussys’ so good, baby-“ Rick says in his southern drawl, “You’re so wet for me.” His voice comes out breathlessly, it causes you to throw your head back and grip the thin blanket that shielded you from the cold floor.

He releases your thighs, opting to let you spread your legs instead, it’s like your body allows him to thrust into you even deeper. He hits a spot that has you screwing your eyes shut and your back arching, your hard nipples rubbing against the t-shirt you wore.

“Come on my cock, baby.”, Rick coos, fingers sneaking between your wet lips to add a hard pressure on your clit, it only takes a few circles and your body is going still beneath his. Rick has to cover your mouth with his large hand as you cum to keep your moans from alerting the dead just outside the door. Your muffled cries and the sound of his cock gliding through your arousal guide him to his release as he fucks you through yours.

“Tell me you love me.” Rick says in his rich, baritone voice. His moans are raspy as he lifts his hand, your own strangled moans turning to light mewls. You can barely get the words out, whispering them into his ear as he notches his face in the crook of your neck. Rick’s hips stutter when he cums, he gives you a few soft strokes before he pulls himself from you.

You watch as he ties the condoms and fixes himself before discarding it. Using your limited water supply to wet a towel and wipe your slick from between your legs. He helps you pull on your underwear and jeans, before pulling on his pants and giving you his hand to help you stand.

When you do stand its on wobbly legs. You put your boots back on then help him put up cans and barbed wire on nearby shelves. “It’s probably? safe-,” You say with a light blush dusting your ears, “They probably would’ve came while we..” , You trail off. “Just a precaution.” Rick says as he grabs your hand in his before continuing his work.

When it’s finished and you two feel safe…enough to go to sleep, Rick lays down, opening his arms for you to lay your head on his chest. He radios to your friends that you’re alive before sitting the radio beside him. You were praying they weren’t busy with their own dangerous situations as you snuggled into Rick’s lean chest.

Rick kisses your head as you fall asleep to the sound of the dead lingering outside the door.

[neil-gaiman]

Hiya Mr Gaiman!

It's probably unlikely that you'll see this, since ofc you're probably busy rn, but incase you do see this in your inbox but don't have time to answer due to other stuff, i just wanna let you know that i still appreciate you somehow having time to read this lil ask I've sent you! Again, thank you Mr Gaiman!

Anyway, so this would probably sound *kinda* weird in terms of the ask i'm writing to you, but do bear with me!

Ok, so uhh Mr Gaiman, if you were to have the ability to time travel to alternative dimensions/universes, would you go to an alternative universe where Monty Python member Graham Chapman never got throat cancer and was still alive and well and happy in his 80s and living his best life in said alternative universe? If so, why? If not, why?

Again, sorry if it sounds a bit out of league and sorta philosophical in terms of the question for you to answer, Mr Gaiman, but I've been thinking about this for quite a while now and it does make me both happy and emotional to think about if Graham Chapman was still alive today, and if he was still alive today, what kinda projects he would've been in, both in terms of writing and acting? Would Graham still be in contact with the other Pythons? Would Graham probably also have a Tumblr account? (ok that's a bit of a stretch but it's a bit funny to imagine imo).

I certainly think that, if Graham was still alive today, he would've been absolutely happy that same-sex marriage was finally made legal plus many other achievements for LGBTQ+ rights, and that he would've probably gotten legally married to his partner David Sherlock, with the other Pythons being the guests of honour for the wedding ceremony!

I also wonder that, if Graham's adopted son John Tomiczek (who unfortunately died from a heart attack in 1992) were to also live, would've Graham finally become a grandpa/great-grandpa?

Idk, it's just some thoughts that I've been thinking about. Thoughts about the many upon many possibilities of Graham doing lots of stuff today if he were still alive. Things he *would've* and *could've* have had the opportunity to do......that is.....if the universe didn't decide to be a dickhead one day and give Graham throat cancer for no absolute reason, and to make it hurt even more, have him pass away on the eve before the 20th Anniversary of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" airing on the 5th October, 1989.....

Again, I understand if you can't be able to answer rn due to other stuff, but I thought I'd ask you this rather hypothetical (rather philosophical of sorts) question cuz I have been thinking about it for quite a while now, and I wanted to hear your personal thoughts on this hypothetical AU situation!

Thanks Mr Neil Gaiman ❤️

It's a lovely idea. I never knew Graham (although I've met most of the other Pythons, and am friends with Terry Gilliam). I like thinking of worlds in which wonderful people didn't die.

[kasarasun]

what if I made a thing or it already was that while Airplane wrote the world, Peerless Cucumber illustrated it (only the animals. And Binghe, fighting the animals.) And then then then

He'd totally do it on an alt account, right?? Peerless Cucumber can't be seen making fanart!! (And he's good at it. Like, wiki is using his art in the monsters and beasts pages (that Peerless Cucumber volleyed for. He also separated it from the plant section.) Because 1 its good 2 the artstyle is consistent 3 there isn't a lot of monster official art, other than that one with the black moon rhinoceros python and those other ones and 4 it's really that good)

Haha incomprehensible parenthesis nesting aside, Airplane is watching the forums, right? Not sure about other stuff in canon but he looks at the forums and the fanart and the fiction and most of it is probably corn and binghe and just a little bit of mobei-jun and also the wives tm but!! There's also that guy!!! The monsters guy!! (People would probably suspect 'Drawing the Beast's Ire'- or some other sex euphemism I'm not good at making those- of being Peerless Cucumber because 1 the writing style is the same 2 Peerless Cucumber is the number 1 contributor to the PIDW wiki and a lot of it is the monsters and beasts section and it makes sense, yes??) Anyway, Airplane shooting towards the sky suspects but not too seriously suspects Mr ire of being cucumber's fanart alt but uh uh that ends pre-transmigration section

So, Shen Yuan starts running about, right? Things seem really... familiar, maybe thats the word?- for some reason. This is because every animal and plant he's ever drawn, sketched- maybe even thought about but that's a stretch?- is his design. The firefly parallels hold their forelimbs like butterflies. That is how far down it goes. Maybe it doesn't come up until later, but beasts and monsters from fanfiction get involved, oc species, too... anyway,

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky transmigrates 30 years (iirc) before Peerless Cucumber. He was an avid enough follower of Drawing the Beast's Ire to recognize that these are their designs! Here's where it gets really crazy. Xiao-Mobei comes along, and while he's still pretty young, Airplane can tell that this is Drawing Ire's design! Some aspect, maybe his ears or teeth, (this isn't a well built theoretical tangent) of Mobei isnt canon. Its Drawing Ire's. From that one Northern Kingdom collection. Whatever stretched his world building into coherence, completion, didn't just pull from fanwork, official art, whatever it could find, it went for Drawing the Beast's Ire's designs specifically. Damn that's crazy Airplane ahahaha moving on,

This is getting really long so I'll be a bit more concise, (want to know more? Talk to me. Please talk to me. I want to interact with the fandom. Ask me questions. Poke your fingers into my cage.) This all comes to head at the Immortal alliance conference. The monsters and beasts really start pouring in! And Shen Qingqiu/Yuan remembers his creations. However, he assumes that this is because like 1 other person maybe was Drawing ghost head spiders.

Hey, Peerless Cucumber really liked the monsters, right? The deadlier, crazier, more intricate, the design the better! So maybe, when he was drawing, he... added some things, really believable, logical additions, really just small creative decisions...

Anyway, the monsters that Drawing the Beast's Ire made were where it came to a head.

Lets have another Canon divergence. Maybe, during or after Binghe gets pushed in, out of the rifts comes a species that Drawing Ire created. It's beautiful, poisonous, beloved, and really quite deadly. Shen Yuan/Qingqiu, Peerless Cucumber, Drawing the Beast's Ire... realizes, quite like airplane before him, that he's illustrated, practically sculpted with his own hands, monsters from the Endless Abyss with claws and teeth and poisons as deadly as Peerless Cucumber thought that the really cool monsters could deserve. It feels like he's the one cutting, biting, poisoning his sweet little sheep. It feels like he's digging out the marrow from his little white lotus disciple's bones.

Ok it is shut up time 👍

[mamawasatesttube]

6 or 17 for TimKon? :)

6. "Don't move, you're still hurt." 17. "Can you hear me?"

Consciousness slams into Tim like a breaking wave. It knocks the breath from his lungs and leaves him spluttering, gasping for breath—an instant mistake, because painpainpain explodes in his chest so hard he nearly passes out again.

"Whoa, Rob, chill out! Don't you dare move. You're still hurt!"

Kon, Tim thinks woozily, trying his hardest to blink the stars from his vision. He can't breathe from the agony. But he... he needs to protect Kon. A vague sense of impending doom floats through his mind, something green, something...

A tower. Why is he thinking of a tower? And blood. So much blood.

He has to protect Kon—

He can't move. He tries to sit up again and he can't move. A gentle but immovable pressure surrounds his whole body, keeping him in place, and he can't move. Panic floods him. He needs to protect Kon and he can't move and—

"Dammit, Rob, I said keep still! Can you hear me?"

...Oh. For the first time, Tim realizes that there's a reason that "blinking the stars out of his vision" didn't work. He never actually opened his eyes.

With effort, he forces his eyelids up, squinting against the dust in the air. He coughs. Pain lances through his chest.

Kon swears under his breath. He's—he's here? He's not hurt? He's... crouching in the rubble, bodily shielding Tim, and... and he's okay. He isn't bleeding, his body is whole and not twisted and broken and bloodied, and... and...

Emotion wells up in Tim's chest, underneath all the pain. He clears his throat and rasps, "Kon?"

"Hey, hot stuff." Kon flashes him a quick smile. "Hold still. You've got four broken ribs. Maybe a concussion too. Hard to say this soon, but..."

Oh. That would explain why breathing hurts. Tim squints up at Kon, then around him, trying to figure out where everyone else went. Weren't they fighting some... guy? Guys? Some Intergang guys... Right, and they were armed with Apokoliptian, um... thingies. And...

Now Tim remembers the reason for "green". Someone had a Kryptonite-tipped rifle round. Musta paid a fortune to Luthor to get that, or else they were doing the bastard a favor. Ugh...

"Your spine isn't damaged, thankfully," Kon continues. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes off into the distance, listening to something Tim can't hear, watching something Tim can't watch, and then looks back down to Tim. "Okay. Coast is clear. I'm gonna get you to the hospital."

Hospital? Eh. Everyone knows broken ribs just need a few weeks of rest. Tim grunts. "Hn. 'M fine."

Kon gives him the flattest look known to mankind. "You need a CT scan to check if you have a concussion. Also, need I remind you, four broken ribs?"

He exhales shortly, raking a hand through his hair; he only does that when he's stressed. He rests his hand on Tim's hip, and suddenly they're both floating into the air. It's odd, because Tim is still laid out flat and can't actually move, but he's used to Kon by now.

Still, though. "S'only flesh wounds." He just needs to sleep it all off. It's fine. They can watch Monty Python while he rests.

Kon, though, doesn't seem to appreciate the humor. The sky is a brilliant blue around him; the wind whips his ponytail around his face. He looks unimpressed. "Tim, your suit might be made of kevlar 'n' stuff, but it's not made to stop rifle rounds! Seriously, what were you thinking?"

Tim frowns. Isn't it obvious what he was thinking? "Had to protect you."

Kon stares at him for a long moment, flying effortlessly towards Metropolis General Hospital without even having to look. Several emotions flicker through his eyes too fast for Tim's dazed mind to follow, until finally he sighs, rakes his free hand through his hair again, and mutters, "What am I gonna do with you?"

That's another question with an obvious answer. Tim grunts again. "Mmph. Cherish and love me forever. Duh."

This time, he wins—Kon smiles despite himself, shaking his head as he starts descending towards the hospital rooftop. "Yeah, okay," he says, and leans down to brush his lips to Tim's dusty cheek. "Guess I'm okay with that."

Tim smiles.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hey! i’m not sure whether you’ve read the percy jackson books or not, but i was wondering — in which cabin would you place harry? like, which god would he be descended from?

i’m only asking because, well, first of all i’m genuinely curious, and second of all it’s become somewhat of a trend on tiktok — this thing with placing characters from different fandoms into each cabin. and many many people associate harry with zeus, i assume because of the lighting which supposedly ties in with his scar?

i mean, yes, i could see that working for harry, what with him being quite a good leader when he needs to be, the fame tied to his name, etcetera.

buuuuut i would strongly consider him as being a descendant of hades. just to list off some of their core powers: necromancy, sensitivity to death, they can sense/see someone’s life aura and there’s also a skull ring which makes the nearest dead restless upon twisting it. like come onnnnnnn

I have read Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus series (though, I consider the second of these and all subsequent series non-canon, and it's why I didn't watch the new show. I just think Rick Riordan doesn't actually know his own characters. When I read HoO, Percy was just, not Percy, and it annoyed me so much I dropped the series after Mark of Athena, but I digress). I used to love the PJO books in, like, 7th grade. I was a PJO girl before I was an HP girl.

(I also reread the first 3 PJO books 4 years ago, so I remember some stuff from it. Not as much as I remember for HP, but when I was 12 I could just, recite the entire first PJO book. I can't do so anymore)

Honestly, the lighting shape of Harry's scar has more to do with Hades than with Zeus. In HP, lighting is repeatedly used as a symbol of death:

Harry's scar, left behind by the Killing Curse is shaped like lightning.

When Dumbledore is killed by the same curse, the Astronomy Tower is referred to in the chapter title as "The Lightning-Struk Tower".

When Harry describes the killing curse, it's described as "lightning-like":

“Avada Kedavra!” The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the pram pushed against the wall, it made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut. . . .

(DH, 296)

Harry's scar is lightning shaped because it symbolizes death.

Not to mention the Deathly Hallows and him being the Master of Death and an actual descendant of the Peverells who made them. Like you said, there's a lot to support that he's a descendant of Hades based on it.

Not to mention he really does feel death, or, at least the Killing Curse as I mentioned in this post:

Moody raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding. “Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared. There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air — instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. [...] So that was how his parents had died . . . exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding death, before life was wiped from their bodies?

(GoF, 216)

But, I also want to bring up the fact that Harry speaks Parseltongue into consideration.

This brings up the caduceus, Hermes' staff, which has two intertwined snakes or the Rode of Asclepius, which is a staff with one snake coiling around it — both staffs are connected to medicine and the god Apollo (Apollo gifted Hermes his staff and is the father of Asclepius). And Apollo is associated with snakes in his stories in general, so, you could make an argument for the Apollo cabin as well.

The snake specifically references Apollo's victory over Python and the establishment of the Oracle of Delphi. So the snake, as a symbol of Apollo, represents prophecy (and that's just as relevant to Harry’s life as death. Apollo as the god of medicine and plague is also associated with death, albeit from a different angle). Not to mention, Crows/Ravens as messengers of prophecy are also symbols of Apollo. Harry's talent as a flyer and his love of gold things fits with Apollo better than with Hades (in PJO, Apollo is the driver of the sun chariot, not Helios. Giving us flight and gold).

(And Harry spends so much time in the hospital wing, yk...)

Also, Harry's polyjuice potion turns gold. Gold is a color usually associated with the sun in alchemy, so it also lends itself to Apollo (and godly ichor in PJO, in general, but the series aren't working with the same rules of magic).

So, I can see an argument for either Hades or Apollo, really. (These are the two I thought of at least when I saw your ask).

Personally, I think a more distant Hades descendant on his father’s side (Peverell) and then Lily as a daughter of Apollo could be really fun for Harry. Becouse he'd be placed in the Apollo cabin but have the aura of a Hades kid (and have more Hades powers than Apollo ones. Like, he'd speak to snakes (Apollo) with no healing or musical ability whatsoever, but could sense death and have the fear aura, but not constantly (Hades)), and he'll just confuse everyone, and I think that'll be funny.

(I just want him to have both James and Lily as parents! I can't give up on either of them and make him a full demigod! Maybe they had a threesome with Apollo/Hades instead of the above, and godly genetics made it work, so Harry has three parents in this AU? Then he'd be like Gilgamesh)

[ladymirdan]

I have always been on the fence about Female Space Marines, and that is mostly because I'm not happy with my own assigned gender (and the fact I like submissive men and dominant women and space marines are extremely sub almost all of them, fight me about it)

But like, seeing the outrage over female Custodes. I'm urging, no begging, GW to release them.

I want every crying, “lore expert” who never read a single book, but just binged some loretuber who read straight off a wiki that never held canon info in the first place, (man im heavily dyslexic and I have no spare time to speak off, but even I at least get the audiobooks), I want these dudes to just burn their armies in rage. (and leave the hobby, dont forgett that very important part)

“Dont make Warhammer political”, get the fuck out of here. 40k was created by a bunch of nerds so angry at Margaret Thatcher they created a satire so heavily influenced by Monthy Python that I'm convinced John Cleese got paid off in cool minis to keep him from suing them.

Warhammer didnt go woke, it was always made by the left. We look at the older stuff and forget that it was created in a different(worse) time, and they have consistently tried to do better.

Look at old Forum posts about Graham McNeill. “Wäääh, why is he always writing about women, communist cuck McNeill” (not those exact words but general sentiment)

Like, I give McNeill so much shit today for how all women he writes about face horrible fates (but to be fair, what men doesn't have a terrible fate too). But I have even forgotten that some of this stuff is about 25 years old.

Seeing Warhammers official page block people who acts out in the comments about this, seeing them double down on the fact thar Custodes can have any gender. Seeing authors of the franchise, new and old back all of this. Im feeling Vindicated.

Gods, I wish this is the last straw for the alt-rights too stupid to realise they are being satirized.

And in the famous words of Games Workshop:

[teamfortresstwo]

OKAY SO . THERES this character who only I care for within the fandom named Dr Pilchard from the song The Ignomiois Demise of Dr Pilchard and at the end he dies(?) but it’s kinda dubious what really happened . I like to headcanon that he got mechanized (if you look at the ao3 tag, there are at least 2 fics in which he has a mechanized dick so I’m going with that) and now kinda just fucks around . He’s characterized by his greed and that makes me think he just tries to scam as many people as he can . Fails, becomes a fugitive from trying it on the wrong guy (my man is known for biting off more than he can choose) and lives on the run .

And then there’s another guy, Inspector Lyf, from the bifrost incident which you should listen to because it’s amazing and I don’t want to spoil it, who at the end of the album chooses to flee from their home . So I think that during this time, while they only takes brakes to fill up their tank and get boozed up, they would run into Dr Pilchard in some backwater bar and he’d try to scam them, as he is oft to do, and they’d trauma dump on him . And he’d be like wowza! Hey aren’t you worried about your ship breaking down ? Well well well it just so happens I’m a brilliant scientist I could help you out . So he gets added to their party and this begins the start of The Impliments (my name for this au because it’s like the off brand mechanisms get it you get it.)

After this, I imagine they’d continue picking up more of the more obscure characters in a similar fashion . The second of which being Briar Rose, whomst they find having been left stranded on a dying asteroid, having created craters in a fit of rage . Seeing the power wafting off of her, Dr Pilchard suggests they use her as a sort of energy source, and immediately gets the shit kicked out of him due to Prior Briar Lore reasons . She would’ve gone in for the kill too but Lyf stops her and she sounds and looks enough like the guy who saved her (Johnny D’Ville) for her to take his advice . Now Lyf is a good guy, outside of his past profession, so he offers to fly her to a different planet, but she decides to stay with him . She’s always been curious and full of wonder for the world so I imagine she’d be very happy to get to see the galaxy.

But before they take off, she mentions how this ‘asteroid’ in fact used to be a completely whole planet that was reduced to what it is now by Frankenstein’s AI years ago, and she assumes that the AI is still around here, merely underground . Lyf advises against going to find it, but Dr Pilchard insists so they venture down and find Frankenstein being tortured by the AI . In a fit of rage, the AI almost captures all of them, but Briar Rose is a fucking powerhouse so she takes it no issue . (Plus the fact that the AI kinda ran out of bombs and bullets a while back doesn’t really help)

With thay, Frankenstein is freed and says they should get rid of her AI, but Briar Rose feels connection to it and Dr Pilchard is curious about it so they merely have Frankenstein reprogram it to make it less good at connecting to stuff and keep it as company . (This turns out not to work too well, though, given the AI eventually figures out a loophole that allows it to connect to Lyf’s ship, but at that point it’s gotten attached so it doesn’t end up doing much with it .)

Can I tell you an au I have for a band that you do not listen to involving characters you do not care for (the mechanisms)

Yes this is awesome and I will listen with limited knowledge of context😁‼️‼️‼️

[lokiified]

a world with you

summary: when you get back from a mission, and Ethan isn't there.

pairing: ethan hunt x f!agent!reader

word count: 2.8k

author's notes: descriptions of injury, mention of a python snake, anxiety over major character death, flirty banter and some suggestive stuff, reference to a Jason Mraz song, so angsty for a bit but sweet fluff i promise, established relationship, no use of y/n, taking care of ethan bc he deserves it, i imagined this with mi2 ethan bc that look is just unmatched so this takes place in like 2007

The innocent mumble of traffic below the window was starting to give you a headache. Your ears had been strained, pricked-up to the slightest of noises, for what felt like ages.

Battered and bruised from the mission, you’d stumbled into the safehouse a mere hour ago. You were running on only adrenaline and Ethan’s training playing on loop in your brain as you instinctively started undressing to clean your wounds. The haze in your mind mercifully numbed the burn of rubbing alcohol and the aches in your bones, and when you finally came-to you’d showered and changed into a clean set of clothes. It was then that you realized that you didn’t know where Ethan was.

“If I don’t make it back, please don’t come looking for me,” he’d always said, brushing gentle lines across your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, “keep yourself safe first.” He would press a soft kiss to your forehead, as if it would seal his words into your mind.

But now, now that he really wasn’t here, now that it was the fear of a dreaded possibility coming true that was clawing it’s way done your spine, it took more strength than any mission to keep yourself from throwing on your jacket and boots and marching back into the world, exhausted as you were, to find him.

The mission was simple: get in, plant a trace on a necklace in the hotel’s vault, and get out. You’d both been expecting the security in the back hallways of the hotel, but what you hadn’t prepared for was that one of the goons was an ex-agent, defected and gone rogue a few years prior; he recognized the two of you immediately. In the midst of the struggle, you’d been separated from Ethan.

Now, hands trembling as they fidgeted in your lap, you were waiting. The window in the living room was open and the apartment was dark, depriving every other sense to focus all of your attention on listening, waiting for Ethan to come back. Surely he was going to come back?

But the men were big and there were at least a dozen of them, and the memory was pierced with the crack of gunshots beneath the haze of adrenaline as you made a break for it.

You… made a break for it? Why did you run? Why didn’t you stay and fight like Ethan probably did? You were such a coward. How could you leave him there to fend for himself? Of course he’s can take care of himself, but what if he’s dead?

Then it would be your fault.

The guilt suddenly choked your lungs like a python with its prey, stifled sobs wreaking silent havoc on your body as you pulled your legs up to your chest and hugged yourself, burying your face into your knees. He was dead and it was your fault, all your fault. He had always been so selfless, so brave and so willing to do anything for you, even back when he barely knew you. You were a horrible person. You could never face Luther again; not with the knowledge that it was your fault Ethan was dead, that you had killed him—

“Agent?”

Your head snapped up from your knees, eyes locking onto the figure that had appeared in the window’s reflection. The sudden roar of blood pounding in your ears made you dizzy, and you squinted into the inky black night as you stumbled through the fog in your brain: he certainly looked like your Ethan, although the silhouette of his hair falling around his shoulders was the only detail you could make out in the darkness, but it seem impossible. He couldn’t be here. You’d left him behind, he was dead and it was all your fault. But then who was this man that had the key to the safehouse? Should you run? Suddenly the reflection was moving, then there was movement in your peripheral, and a figure that looked a whole lot like the Ethan you loved came and crouched in front of you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I’m right here.”

His hands reached your waist but you jumped back at his touch and scrambled into the cushions, half expecting this to all be a hallucination. His hands recoiled and quickly raised in surrender, his brows twitching together with worry as he watched you, your chest beginning to heave in panic. Your heart longed to believe it was Ethan, wanted nothing more than to melt into his touch, but it didn’t make sense for him to be here.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on yours as he slowly lowered a hand. You eyed the gun on the holster around his shoulders, but he moved past it and found the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one slowly and moving to slide the shirt over his shoulders. He quickly dropped it on the floor and brought his hands up again.

“It’s me, okay? I promise. You can check, I promise it’s me.”

You inspected him from afar, noting the smattering of bruises across his ribs and the graze of a bullet on the underside of his right arm, crusted over with blood. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and grime, but nowhere could you find any seams or signs of deception. You moved closer to him.

“Tell me something only my Ethan would know about me,” you said, your voice wavering in the aftermath of your panic. Ethan smiled, warming your heart with his radiance.

“Our first date was two years ago, in Rome, when our mission got called off after we’d already landed. I took you to dinner at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city, and we danced to that Jason Mraz song you love so much-“

“A World With You,” you finished with him, slipping off the cushion and into his open arms on the floor. His arms encircled you and squeezed gently, and your tears came spilling out of you at the comfort of his touch. He moved so his back was against the couch and you were cradled in his arms, his head resting atop yours as he stroked your arms to soothe you.

“I thought you were dead, I thought they killed you… I thought you were dead and it was my fault because I left you there, how could I leave you there?” The words tumbled out of you between sobs, your mind and body expelling all of your fears into his warm embrace.

“No, hey, I told you to run, remember?” He said, bringing a hand to lift your face and look at him. “I told you to run as soon as the guard recognized us, remember?” You shook your head, trying to recall his voice but all you could hear was the sound of gunshots and shouting fading behind you as you raced through the halls.

“I promise I told you to run, okay?” He brushed away the trail of tears on your cheeks and moved the hair out of your face as he spoke. “You were just following orders, you did the right thing.” His voice was like a balm to your wounds, soothing the guilt that gripped your chest. The rest of the night was coming back to you; Ethan’s frantic shout when he realized the situation with the guard, his promise to come find you. Your breathing evened out. You became aware of his own heart beating solidly beneath your weight, of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Yeah… yeah okay,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest again. You focused on breathing, on the steady thumping of Ethan’s heart, the proof that he was alive here with you.

“We should really get you cleaned up,” you said after a while, and he sighed.

“I missed you,” he replied as he squeezed you tighter.

“I missed you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that you desperately need a shower.” His head sprung away from resting atop yours and he looked at you in disbelief.

“What are you saying, Agent?”

You pecked a kiss on his nose and grinned, “you stink.”

He broke into a grin and leaned closer to you, placing a hand on the back of your head and capturing your lips in a kiss. You moved in perfect tandem with each other, the anxieties of the day fading into the background as you poured your heart into this moment, this single moment where nothing else exists besides the two of you, kissing in the dark like two teenagers on stolen time.

Your arms draped over his shoulders and your hands moved to tangle in his hair, pressing your body against his as if you could get any closer to him. His hands moved between cupping your face and gripping your waist like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you more. His teeth caught your lower lip and you released a breathy moan, and you felt his lips curl into a smile at the sound. He broke away with heavy breathing, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I thought I smelled bad” he whispered with a smile as you caught your breath.

“Oh you do.” Ethan leaned in to kiss you again, but you pulled away and stood to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” His face melted into a pout and you laughed, causing his lips to twitch up into a smile and betray his feigned offence. You reached your hands out to him and he accepted your help, standing up slowly. You noted the way he grimaced as he stood and your eyes flicked across his body in search of the source of his pain.

“Do you need help walking to the bathroom?” you asked, then rolled your eyes when he quickly shook his head. “Let me rephrase that: I’m going to help you walk to the bathroom.” Ethan grinned at you and accepted your aid, slinging an arm around your shoulder and lending you some of his weight. Slowly, the two of you made it to the bathroom where you set him down on the closed toilet seat. His shirt stayed behind on the floor of the living room, and in the dim light and sweet aroma of the candles you found in the cupboard you helped Ethan peel off the rest of his clothes and expose the wounds underneath. Mercifully, there were no major gashes besides the bullet graze on his arm.

“Are you injured at all?”

You gave him a stern look, “you’re not allowed to ask that until I’m done taking care of you.” You finished wrapping his arm and stepped back to inspect the rest of him, then walked over to the tub and started running the hot water.

You noticed the way his eyes followed you wherever you went, his gaze warm and filled with longing, like you were the most important thing in the world.

As the tub filled up you helped Ethan to his feet and into the now ankle-deep water. You pulled two towels and a facecloth from the shelf and put them on the mat in front of the tub. You’d showered earlier, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pamper Ethan after a hard day. Goodness knows he deserves it.

You shut off the water and slid out of your sweats and t-shirt, the chill of the darkened apartment hitting you suddenly before you dipped your toes in the water. It was the perfect temperature, and warmed you instantly as you submitted yourself further into its embrace. You both sat facing each other, knees to your chests, the steam of the water rising up to color your cheeks and twist Ethan’s hair into curls.

Allowing the silence to linger like the steam in the air, you motioned for Ethan to turn around so his back was to you. You cupped your hands and brought water up to his head, soaking his hair through. You smiled to yourself as you reached for the shampoo, grateful that Ethan had remembered to bring his own products. He was very passionate about his precious hair, and the IMF’s safehouse supplies were never up to his standards.

You massaged the product into his scalp, the tension that remained in his neck melting away with every press of your fingers. His head rolled back and his shoulders dropped, and you caught a glimpse of his small smile, eyes closed in bliss. I should do this more often, you thought to yourself.

When you were done with his hair you pulled the showerhead from its hook on the wall and rinsed his head, combing your fingers through the strands as you went. Once the last of the shampoo was rinsed out you took the facecloth and lathered it up with soap. Gently, you scrubbed away the sweat and grime from the day, kneading the sore muscles beneath Ethan’s battered skin.

“I remember this one,” you whispered, so as not to startle him in the sacred stillness that had settled over the room. Your ministrations had paused at a long white scar, poorly healed and puckered. You dragged your finger down it, from the top of his right shoulder blade to his waist. “You got it in Malasia, back in ’04.” Ethan turned around to face you, a serious look set into his features.

“I remember,” he said, and you could see him flipping through the memories in his head. “You were captured. I disobeyed direct orders and went to rescue you.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile; he had saved your life that day.

“That was the day I realized I loved you.”

The sound of limbs wading through water wafted up your ears in the steam as you watched Ethan’s face, his hand coming up from the water to cup your face and his head leaning forward to rest against yours. You closed your eyes, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the dew that was rising on his skin from the heat of the water.

You’d always found a way back to each other, even before everything.

After a few minutes he pulled away and pressed a kiss to the edge of your hair, inhaling to smell your shampoo and smiling against your skin. You raised yourself out of the water and his eyes grazed over your body, a hint of his playboy smirk surfacing but he seemed to think better of it; it had been a long, tiring day for the both of you. Instead of whatever had crossed his mind, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on the front of each of your thighs. When you were both dried off, you pulled on your clothes from earlier.

“Let me go get you something, I’ll be right back.”

You returned with a soft cotton t-shirt, a deep green that complimented his tanned skin and chestnut hair beautifully, and his favorite pair of sweatpants. The sight of him in such comfortable clothes, a cheeky smile on his face, made your heart soar with joy. He deserved every comfort you could ever bring him. His hands were warm when they reached yours, fingers intertwining as you lead him into the darkened bedroom, the moon and city lights casting a gentle blue glow onto the bed.

You fell asleep almost instantly, but Ethan laid awake for hours. Despite the exhaustions of the day, he didn’t feel like he could sleep yet. He had been worried about you too; worried he would come back to the safehouse and find it empty, void of your presence which he so desperately needed. He always needed you, but after days like today he felt like he might die without you. There was no one else he felt safe enough to surrender to; no one else he could give his weakness and pain to and trust them to handle it with care.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath his arm was continuously drawing him closer to sleep, but he felt the need to reflect on your time together and make sure he hasn’t taken anything for granted after being half-convinced he had lost you today.

He thought of Rome, of the way your face shone in the glow of the city lights beneath the rooftop where you danced with him. He thought of waking up beside you in countless countries that the average person could never name. He thought of the day he told you he loved you, hiding in a Russian forest while hiding for your lives. He thought of the day you were assigned to his team, your sweet and innocent face immediately lighting up his world despite the darkness that haunts him.

With your hands intertwined, your bodies as close as physically possible, and his mind filled with memories of a world with you, Ethan finally submitted himself to rest.

[webslingingslasher]

i need a hug from frat!peter

or maybe suit!frat!peter

'hug?'

peter stops his morning stretch and bites down a yawn before scratching at his head in an effort to fix his bed head. his answer comes in a form of action, he steps closer and opens his arms wide.

once you're inside, he closes them like he's a venus fly trap. your cheek is pressed into his chest and he still has that fresh out of bed warmth. 'love you.'

a soft kiss to the top of your head. 'love you, too.' it's gravally, he sounds tired this morning. 'sleep okay?' another kiss, his thumbs race down your back. 'was i dreaming or did you keep shoving your hands down my pants last night?' peter kept moving, but you followed and made sure to stuff your hands under his sweatpants.

'they were cold and your thighs are very warm.' speaking of warmth - you melt into your boyfriend. 'i'm starting to think you're with me for my heat.'

'it's a bonus.' it's your turn to kiss where you can and it draws a hum from peter's throat. 'want me to make breakfast?' it always makes you bite back a smile. one morning when you were on your period, peter went to make breakfast and you snapped at him and asked him why he assumed you never wanted to do it. ever since he's asked and never once did you say you wanted to take over.

'yes please.' peter gives a gentle pat on your lower back, you don't move. he gives you another minute before fingers lightly poke your sides. 'you gotta move if you wanna eat.'

you groan, there's never enough time to hug peter. if you could, you'd do it every second of the day. 'python me and i'll be okay.' peter follows your command, he squeezes you so tight your feet slightly lift from the ground and your chest feels tight and there's a lack of breath.

peter holds it for three seconds, you feel like a puddle when he releases you. 'pythoned. daddy needs toast.'

'hug after breakfast?' there's a plethora of kisses on your forehead. 'hug anytime you want, trouble.'

you hold him to it and peter lives up to it. 

[max1461]

Ok, so obviously this is not going to convince the people who already don't agree with me on this, who find it contradictory or unsatisfactory, but I'm merely stating and not defending the position in this post:

I care about about people, I care about the general population of every country equally, and I don't care about countries or nations as entities. Actually this is not quite true—I believe that caring, if coherent, has to involve some degree of adopting others' ends as your own. @tsarina-anadyomene thinks this is one characteristic of love, and I would indeed like to be able to say that in at least some minor degree I love every person (indeed every creature) in the world. Uh, Serbian nationalists care about Serbia and therefore I care about Serbia, at least a little bit.

But governments, well, first of all fewer people care about governments qua governments as much as they care about nations in the abstract, but more importantly I think that governments as individual entities do a lot of really heinous shit that makes it impossible for me to like them. This is distinct from any anarchist position that the state should not exist—it's more like, point at any individual national government. Do I like those guys? Do I think those are good guys? Well they do some good stuff, they keep the roads paved, hopefully, deliver the mail, all that's great. But they also do a lot of killing and torture, and economic sabotage and shit like that, that hurts a lot of people. And the closer you get to the top, the closer you are to discussions of "grand strategy", the more you're explicitly or implicitly talking about shit like economic sabotage and killing people and the less you're talking about delivering the mail. I guess building roads definitely comes up, and that's good, but it's always "building more roads than the other guys so we can sabotage and/or kill them better" which is :/

I've always been a little contrarian on governments. I've always been a little bit of the famed "median voter" on governments. Get me talking about my preferred system and I'll sound sound like those peasants from Monty Python. Uh. I've made a bunch of posts about it. I want some kind of decentralized, directly democratic, cooperative, federated bullshit like the ancoms talk about for real life and the techno-libertarians talk about for software. Everything other than that is, uh, bullshit, it's the man keeping you down, man. But second place, if we don't get that? I'll take a well-run oligarchy, I'll take the façade of democracy to reduce political violence and attract foreign investment while a party of crony-capitalist technocrats actually runs the show, I'll take the 1955 system before the Plaza Accords, you get the idea. Representative democracy is a sham, basically, it's a sham. So if you're not going to give me freedom, which none of the liberal democracies do, at least give me peace, stability, and prosperity—which they're pretty good at!

But this means I look at, say, China, and I think... sucks they don't have freedom of speech, that's a big issue for me. I mean not so big an issue that I couldn't live there, just a big issue. I'd strongly like it to be otherwise. But the rest of it? Single party state? Who cares. Standard of living is high (for the urban middle class—actually this is my biggest issue with Chinese policy at the moment, they need to do massive wealth redistribution towards the rural poor) but anyway, standard of living is high, there's political stability, it's fucking fine. I hung out with a tone of Chinese international students in college and none of them were like, unhappy with the state of China, although the really wealthy ones all wanted to park their wealth abroad for pretty obvious reasons—

Right, that's another thing China needs to fix: fears about overall stability lead the local elites to siphon money out of the economy and park it abroad. I think, as a non-expert, it seems like Xi's rise and centralization of power have been worse for this. Go back to Deng, go back to term limits and power sharing! God I love Deng Xiaoping.

Uh, freedom is a ruse, uh, Ted K was lowkey right that in a modern techno-world freedom is kind of a ruse. I mean people have to be uh, we have to act or be made to act like worker bees if we want a hive this big and cantankerous to function. Uh, sucks man, sucks that we had to choose between freedom and antibiotics. Maybe we don't, right, that's my whole idea. You know how they had the Juche idea, Kim and his assholes had the Juche idea, well I also have an idea. Maybe we can have decentralized, directly democratic control of economic and civil institutions and still maintain a modern industrial economy. Maybe we can escape Ted K's trap <- new name for it I am inventing. Well one can dream, one can solve a lot of math problems and maybe one day I'll read a bunch of econ books and solve the right math problems and discover the answer. Marx, I love Marx I'm a genuine Marx fan but he doesn't have it. Sorry. Just does not got it. Soviet Union was in a Ted K trap just like all the others. They drained the Aral sea bro! That's hard to forgive...

[brokehorrorfan]

6 Things I Learned from the Lisa Frankenstein Commentary

We don’t get movies like Lisa Franeknstein often, which is a shame because it’s endlessly charming yet delightfully twisted. While it disappointed at the box office, it has "cult classic" written all over it.

The coming-of-age horror-comedy is out today on Blu-ray and DVD. Among the special features is an audio commentary by Zelda Williams. Here are 6 things I learned…

1. Catch Me If You Can inspired the opening credit sequence.

The opening credit sequence, which briefly depicts the Creature's love story from his previous life in the style of Victorian shadow box art, was inspired by Catch Me If You Can.

"We wanted to do something interesting with the credits in this bit. I was really inspired by Catch Me If You Can, which I thought the opening credits were particularly interesting and helped establish the story before we ever got to it. And because Creature doesn't speak this whole movie, I wanted an opportunity to show what his life would have been like."

2. The film was originally intended to be rated R.

Although Lisa Frankenstein pushes the PG-13 rating as far as it can go, it was originally intended to be a hard R. Williams cites the party scene, in which Lisa originally smoked a laced joint rather than drinking a PCP cocktail, as a difficult revision.

"This is where stuff got a little complicated when we were going from R-rated to PG-13. Originally there was a coated joint they were passing around. This is one of the only scenes that I'm not sure I'm as fond of in comparison to the joint stuff. Most of the rest of the changes were fine, but this one I find very strange. It's just a very different reaction and interaction than what used to be there. However, these are the things that happen when making a movie."

3. Creature is an homage to Day of the Dead's Bub.

Not only Lisa is seen watching George A. Romero's Day of the Dead in the film, but the Creature is an homage to its iconic zombie, Bub.

"Creature for me is definitely an homage to Buster Keaton, but he's also an homage to the zombie you just saw on screen, Bub, who was in Day of the Dead, a Romero movie that I'm very fond of. It was an incredibly emotive and a very intelligent zombie and ended up getting revenge against the asshole in the movie. It was one of my favorite monsters ever made, so when I could put that on screen during the movie, it made me very happy."

4. Zelda hid a tribute to her father, Robin Williams.

Williams is the daughter of Robin Williams, and she included his 1983 comedy album, Throbbing Python of Love, among the records scattered on the floor in Lisa's living room.

"Oh, there's Dad! We used one of Dad's vinyl albums because we had to scatter some across the floor." She refers to it as "a little, mini Easter Egg for me."

5. The police officers are named after John Waters.

The police officers in the film are Officer John (played by Walker Babington) and Officer Waters (Sylvia Grace Crim) — named on a whim in honor of cult filmmaker, John Waters.

"They asked me to name the cops, because obviously they needed to have name tags, so I named them Officer John and Officer Waters." She thought no one would notice since they're so small, but a viewer pointed it out at a test screening.

6. The film is sprinkled with movie references.

Williams wore her influences on her sleeve with her directorial debut, and she pointed out several references on the commentary:

A Trip to the Moon (clip featured in Lisa's surreal dream sequence)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (stylistic inspiration on the dream sequence)

Weird Science (the party scene)

Suspiria (red lighting during drug sequence)

My Boyfriend's Back (camera shot from inside a grave looking up at characters)

Kill Bill (weapon point-of-view shot)

E.T. (a boy on a bike — played by Diablo Cody's son — at the end)

Notting Hill (reading together on a bench at the end)

Lisa Frankenstein is available now on Blu-ray, DVD, and Digital via Universal.

[just-jordie-things]

Choso headcanons :)

okokok here's some random stuff i came up with.

choso would try very hard to learn how to do your hair for you. he usually has his hair up in buns, right? so he'll happily do that for you. but also will take the time to learn how to braid, or use tools like a curler/straightener to style it the way you like. even on days you don't necessarily style it, he also loves to just brush it for you. i think he'd find the action sweet and intimate.

always lets you try to food he makes (when eating in) or orders (when eating out) and would never get annoyed if you eat more of his food than your own. in fact i think he'd find it adorable <3

100,000,000% will get a matching tattoo with you. big or small, meaningful or silly/cute. if you suggest it he's booking an appt with his regular artist right away.

also he has a favorite tattoo artist that has done most of his sleeves and some others on his back and legs. choso loves tattoos. what he likes most about his are that you like to mindlessly trace them from time to time when you're lounging around together.

doting partner. never slacks off on the chores. never makes you feel like you're doing most of the work. often surprises you with a perfectly clean house and dinner cooking on the stove when he's home before you and has time to spare.

and speaking of doting. he's there for anything you need company for. a nail appt? he's chatting with your technician and playing pokemon go. grocery shopping? without fail, what a great excuse for walking around and holding your hand. gotta run to the pharmacy? he's happy to drive you and wait with you. no matter what you're doing, he's grateful to spend time with you.

he's more perceptive than most people give him credit for. but he can read your expression in a second. even if you're quick to go blank, he'll catch that frown or wince or shock before you've even realized you'd made that face out loud. if it's stress, he's holding your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist. if you're reacting to something that just happened but are trying to be subtle about it, he'll smirk and follow your line of sight to see what had caught your attention. wordlessly, the two of you will practically gossip between yourselves.

ok last one on my mind. choso is a reptile person. he would definitely have a beardie or maybe a leopard gecko or a ball python or something. and he'd love that little thing. coos and baby talks it when it eats well or is just sittin in it's enclosure basking. if you're not a reptile person he'd be understanding and keep the enclosure somewhere that you won't see often and get creeped out. but if you are a reptile person he would be ecstatic to see you spend some enrichment time with the little creature. (i'm totally not projecting myself here hehehe)