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madam-o · 3 years

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Cruella (2021) Spoiler Review

Yeah, no. That wasn't an origin story or a prequel. That was a complete reimagining of Cruella De Vil.

She's an anti-hero, emphasis on the hero, with the most pathetic but adorable Disney orphan childhood to date. She would never hurt a dog, in fact she collects strays of all kinds. She wouldn't even kill the (possibly) same dogs that pushed her mum off a cliff.

There's not a scrap of fur in the whole movie. Not even feathers, as far I can recall. I bet the even the leather was vegan. There's cute dogs running all over this film. This is definitely not the same Cruella we've seen before.

This completely de-fanged take on a previously beloved, remorselessly wicked villain is ridiculous. As ridiculous as, say, Marvel taking a classic comic bad guy generally recognizable as a scowling, hunched, little horned troll and casting him as a puppy-eyed and ethereally beautiful young prince with the saddest, most sympathetic backstory possible.

This is a relentlessly silly movie, with no relation to any real time period. Everything's a mish-mash of the 60's/70's/now. Emma Stone spends the entire running time emoting her little heart out with perpetually teetering mental stability. The costumes are insanely cool and the cast is ridiculously stuffed with talent.

Emma Thompson is Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, except playing a genuine psychotic narcissist. Cruella has a glam gay bestie who conveniently owns a vintage fashion shop. Jasper kinda sorta has a crush on Cruella. Horace dotes on a chihuahua with an eyepatch. Nandor the Relentless sings the Cruella theme song - it's all so unforgivably precious! Cruella saves the day with the power of Fashion Design and a sewing machine, ffs.

This is the next Joker/Harley Quinn/Loki/Elphaba story for the Children, yet another hero for the disenfranchised outsider. Boomers and Boomer lites will b*tch about how the lgbtqia+'s are ruining everything (some more) for being courted yet again by Mega Corporation Disney, and yeah, they definitely are being courted here. Big time.

I can't be mad at it though. This is the gayest thing Disney ever done and it's the goofiest and most charming story about a group of chaotic neutral characters I've seen since Withnail and I. I wanted to write it off as too preposterous to enjoy but then they brought out Mark Strong. Dammit, they keep doing that in silly movies and it hooks me every time!

There's no way they could do a sequel of this movie about Cruella planning to kill 100 puppies. I mean they could do a sequel where it appears that she might be considering killing 100 puppies, but it would all turn out to be a decoy in a convoluted plot to ruin her next utterly despicable nemesis. This Cruella is always threatening us with a murderous good time but then pulls back at the last minute, which is the worst thing I can say about her, honestly.

Rating: A. Highly Enjoyable Nonsense.

#cruella #nandor the relentless #loki #mark strong #emma stone #cruella 2021 #kayvan novak

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roboticchibitan · 3 years

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I really like this card because it reminds me of all the kind things crafters have done for me over the years. And the kind things I have done in turn. And just how nice yarn people are to each other and how friendly. So here's a challenge for you! Please tell me a random act of yarn someone has done for you, or you have done for somebody else

Five years ago, around Christmas, I went to my LYS, in search of a little bit of inspiration and fun. Because I had quit my job because of my illness, I really didn't have much besides the money my boyfriend occasionally gave me. At the time I had around $7.

The clerk was really nice while I bought one of the Madelintosh mini skeins for my beekeeper's quilt. I was talking enthusiastically about my beekeeper's quilt and mentioned there was an orange skein of Madelintosh merino light that I really couldn't afford but it was so, so pretty.

To my extreme puzzlement, I got home and got a call from the yarn store! She said she had a package for me. I was like... What?? And she said if I could just come get I, I'll know what she's talking about. So I go back to the yarn store. And she handed me one of their store bags and said "a secret Santa bought this for you."

And in the bag was my skein of yarn! The orange yarn that I loved so much! She wouldn't tell me who bought it, but I made her pass along a message. I told her to tell that person the truth of my circumstances. I told her because my boyfriend at the time was experiencing some issues at work, we weren't sure if we would be able to afford Christmas presents. And I had been very depressed and having a hard time because I was still in a psychotic episode and couldn't do anything to help. So this gift was like a bright light in a dark time for me. The clerk cried when I explained how much this yarn meant to me and why, and promised she would tell the secret Santa for me.

That was an incredibly positive experience during a very dark time in my life. And the yarn is still stored away in my beekeeper's quilt box! It's still my favorite of all my hexipuff colors. But that wasn't the only act of kindness I've had from other fiber artists!

@weeberc3 remembered one of their mutuals was doing the beekeeper's quilt and offered to send me some leftover yarn! I thought it was going to be bits and ends of skeins, which I was perfectly happy with and grateful for! But there were entire skeins in that package! And the colors were so perfect! And it was so nice to have a fun and concrete interaction with one of my online pals.

And then @swords-n-spindles (a fellow member of the beekeeper's quilt solidarity club!) Saw one of my posts about falling in love with a pattern only for it to turn out to be an out of print pamphlet from a certain series of vintage pamphlets. And it was only in German. But guess who speaks German! And managed to track it down for me! And scan it for me! And even translated it for me! And now I have access to something there's no conceivable way for me to have gotten on my own. Just cuz my friend took the time to help me out!

As for myself... I will give yarn and hooks/needles away to literally anyone who shows the slightest interest in either knitting or crocheting.

We're just nice people.

#hazel’s fiber arts tag

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laurasinele · 2 years

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Season Greetings to @nonbinaryezrabridger! Here's your Newmann Secret Santa :D

Thanks for puting this together @hermannsthumb

People tend to think of Newton as a braty thirty-something, stuck in his teenage glory days who only listens to hipster music and shitty comercial punk-ish bands.

They also tend to see him as an obnoxious, egotistic oversharer with very bad taste and even worse manners.

None of it was true.

(Read Below The Cut)

Some of it was, but most of it wasn't. He was braty alright, but he was just thirty, no something added. And he might be mentally stuck in his teenage years but not even he would dare call them "glorious". He did listen to hipster music and shitty punk-ish bands, but not exclusively. He was a musician, for fucks sake, his tatste was much wider than that, despite what his skinny jeans, skinny ties, thick frames and just-out-of bed hairstyle might suggest. Even the hairstyle was misleading: he had little to no sleep on a regular basis, seldom in an actual bed.

He was ready to admit that he could come off as obnoxious, and yes, he had a huge ego and a hard time looking away from it to read a room or empathize with others, which lead inevitably to the alleged bad taste and manners. But he was by no means an oversharer. Not by a long shot. Oh, no sir. Not a chance in hell. Which, coincidentally, was the mental place where he spent most of his time.

The thing is, most people tend to put chatty, opinionated individuals under the oversharer label, regardless of how many actual, intimate life facts those individuals include in their verbal tirades. Newton talked a lot. He certainly used an average of 73.6% more words than necessary in any given exchange. And he was vehement in establishing his certainty about whatever he was saying. He did talk an awful lot about himself. However, other than his absolute fascination with kaijus, a few embellished youth exploits, and the habit of flaunting his genius status, he rarely, if ever, shared any information about himself.

Had Newton Geiszler ever been an oversharer, he wouldn't be in his present predicament. Had he ever shared some key facts about himself and his health, everybody in the Shatterdome would know by now to not let him drink so much coffee or any alcohol at all. Everybody in the Shatterdome would send him to sleep at roughly the same time in the evening and make sure he got at least six good hours. Everybody in the Shatterdome would check if he was taking his mood stabilizers and antidepressants. And everybody in the Shatterdome would make damn sure to never, ever, ever leave him alone if he had failed to follow the above rules.

Because Newton Geiszler was anything but an oversharer, nobody in the Shatterdome knew any of those things —not even Hermann, despite Newton pouring so much of himself in their past correspondence, yet not enough. But this was not a problem. Newton managed. Kind of. The problem, unfortunately, was that Newton sometimes believed all those things people tend to think about him, and many more horrible scenarios of his own design.

On this fateful night, after sixty-seven straight hours working a game of Guess How Does Kaiju Anatomy Works, and who knows how many more awake, Newton found himself talking alone in the lab. Not talking alone to his tape recorder, or talking alone as in a psychotic episode. Talking alone because he had thought Hermann Gotlieb was there, but he wasn’t. At some point in the last few days without nights, Hermann must have announced he needed a nap. He must have, because Newton was sure they were not in no-speaking terms at the moment, but the thought alone made him doubt it. And because Newton had been listening to the 1994 Green Day’s masterpiece Dookie in his sweet, salvaged and revamped vintage Walkman at top volume, he must have missed Hermann’s leave.

That chain of events was sound and logical. There was nothing upsetting about it. Yet Newton was starting to feel upset. Newton was starting to see the What Ifs coming, spearheading the Worst Case Scenarios. What if Hermann was in no-speaking terms with him and he didn’t know? What if Hermann had fallen from his ladder and was unconscious on the lab floor out of Newton’s sight from his workbench? What if there had been a surprise Kaiju event and no one told him because everybody hates him? What if Hermann had never even existed and he was just a product of Newton’s sick mind?

Basket Case started to play. Billy Joe sang “Sometimes I give myself the creeps” and Newton chuckled as he shook his head, willing away all those catastrophic thoughts. “Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me”, the song kept going, and Newt chuckled again. The chuckle became a soft laugh, and he tried and failed to sing along. He knew that song by heart, he’d sung it hundreds of times. He just couldn’t remember the words for some reason. His soft laughter gave way to tears. Tears gave way to ragged breaths and weak knees.

In a matter of seconds, Newton Geiszler was alone in his laboratory having a full blown panic attack.

He ripped off his gloves and his headphones, he threw his glasses on the tool cart and started clawing at his face and pulling his hair, all hope to reign in his breathing lost.

Next thing he knew, he was under his workbench, hugging his knees against his chest, clenching his jaw so hard that his ears were buzzing, and swinging back and forth to the silent tune of Basket Case’s chorus that he couldn't stop repeating in his head.

He didn't know how long he had been there or what time it was. He was mildly aware of his state but had absolutely no idea of what had triggered it. He couldn't taste the blood from his tongue caught between his grinding teeth. He barely even had a sense of self. And of course, he didn't hear Hermann arrive.

"Are you listening to me Doctor Geiszler?"

Hermann had been ranting and raving since he arrived at the lab, after a clearly insufficient sleep. However, what was a disastrous sleep schedule compared to the fate of humankind? He was set to soldier on through yawns and space-outs.

The ticks and tacks of his old computer keyboard merged with those of the chalk piece against the blackboard, setting the rhythm for his one sided argument with Newton. The reason, as usual, was the state of disarray in which he kept his side of the lab.

"And before you accuse me of harbouring similar tendencies, I will have you know that paper and chalk, whether in or out of place, don't pose the same threat to public health as an alien piece of undetermined viscera".

The silence that followed itched in Hermann's brain like a cheap knitted sweater against too delicate skin. His furious tick-tacking against the board slowly came to a halt as the realisation dawned that Newton hadn't answered to his verbal jabs not once.

Intrigued, Hermann put the chalk piece down and turned around, a wary weight starting to settle on his stomach.

"I know you must still be here, Newton. Not even you would leave an unpreserved specimen in the workbench to rot and leave the premises", Hermann calls, but there's a tinge of worry in his voice.

Mumbling under his breath, Hermann unhooked his cane fastidiously from a ladder step and made his way to his colleague's side of the lab. As he crossed the line dividing their designated areas, Hermann noticed a rustling sound muffled by the various kinds of buzzing coming from their equipment.

Following the soft noise of textile friction, Hermann arrived at Newton's workbench and bent awkwardly to look underneath.

"Oh, Newton", Hermann whispered morosely.

Newton didn't seem to notice him. Hermann let himself drop on the floor, lips pressed in a futile attempt to distract himself from the pain that movement caused him. He scooted under the table and curled himself beside Newton, mirroring the latter's posture.

"Newton", Hermann repeated softly. At the lack of results, he gingerly set his hand on Newton's forearm. Newton startled almost unnoticeably. He pinned his eyes on Hermann's hand and slowly followed it to his worried face.

"Hermann".

The aforementioned smiled with relief.

"Who else? Are you here with me, Newton?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I should— I shouldn't have—"

"Now, now, old boy. Can you answer my question? Are you here with me?"

Newton seemed confused, his devastated face streaked with tears breaking Hermann's heart. After a while, he took a deep ragged breath and replied:

"Not yet. I'm coming back". Hermann nodded approvingly. "Please don't leave", he added, clinging onto Hermann's hand.

"I would never do such a thing, Newt", he said, with emphasis in the abbreviation of the name he often refused to use. "Now let's breathe together, shall we? Later maybe we can work on leaving this very convenient hideout for greener pastures".

Newton nodded and attempted a shaky half smile. Hermann squeezed his hand. They both started breathing deeply, in time with the fluorescents buzzing.

There was a series of names that were regularly called to LOCCENT for "an update". The message through PA was always the same: "So and so and so, please report to LOCCENT for an update". The list of names was always roughly the same, and the time of the announcement varied without a discernible pattern. Additionally, there wasn't a place in protocol where requirements to report to someone or somewhere added a reason such as "an update". All in all, it was an occurrence that bothered the Marshal in the back of his mind. Fortunately for those involved, it didn't bother him enough to investigate.

The voice calling through the PA system was invariably Tendo Choi's, and among the summoned, two names stuck out like a sore thumb: Mako Mori and Herc Hansen. Again, the Marshal was a very busy man, and not even the mention of his old copilot and his protégé managed to keep his attention on those mysterious PA call ups for long enough to do something about it.

"What is happening?", asked Mako eagerly with a very confused Raleigh in tow. They had been training and were still barefoot. Mako didn't bother to put her boots on in her haste, and Raleigh followed suit convinced by her reaction thay there was an actual end-of-the-world emergency.

The answer to herbquestion was a general shush. Tendo and Herc peeled their eyes off the screen momentarily to look at her admonishingly, and Ernie Han, chief of radarists, shoved a headset against her chest. She put it on hastily and gestured "silence" and "look" at an increasingly baffled Raleigh.

"It's no use, they're not whispering loud enough", claimed Tendo in frustration, keeping the headset on nonetheless.

"But where are they?" asked Mako, sweeping the lab's security video feed.

"There", pointed Hercules. "See the cane on the floor next to the workbench? They're under the table".

Before Mako could ask "But why?", Raleigh demanded: "Why are you spying on the k-scientists?"

Another general, even more frantic shush was the answer. After a while, careful to not miss anything on the otherwise virtually static screen, Mako leant back and whispered an explanation.

"We've got an ongoing bet on their daily arguments and the possible outcomes".

"You're betting money on their neuroses?", whispered Raleigh back incredulously.

"Oh, no, not at all. We bet chocolate puddings. Each day's winner cashes part of the pool and there's a small amount kept for what we call The Final Resolution".

"That being?", asked the ranger mildly interested at this point.

Hansen took over, with gravitas:

"Well, some people bet they'll kill each other accidentally. Others think it'll be on purpose".

"Uh-uh, not me", cut Choi. "And neither does Miss Mori", he added with a wink.

"We think they will kiss", clarified Mako with an excited smile.

"Damn right they will, sister, and they will make you and I chocolate pudding rich!", said Tendo as he high-fived her.

"Look!", alerted Ernie and a handful of other gamblers in unison.

Suddenly all the attention was on the screen and the headphones.

"Geiszler is crawling out", said Raleigh, suddenly infected with the general enthusuasm. He was immediately sushed.

On the screen, already standing up, Geiszler brushed his jeans with his hands and picked Hermann's cane from the floor. A collective gasp anticipating violence took the LOCCENT, but it was immediately drowned by Newton's voice piping through the headsets.

"Need help down there, man?", he asked awkwardly.

Most of the audience was struck with disappointment and confusion. Tendo Choi and Mako Mori held hands and hopped up and down expectantly. Raleigh was simply amazed by human nature.

"I could do with some help, yes", came Hermann's ragged voice.

The whole LOCCENT now, not only the participants in the betting pool, was glued to the screen. Newton bent down on one knee and stretched his hand under the workbench. Huffing and puffing, Hermann came into view from under the table and, supported on Hermann's cane, Newton pulled them up. They stood front to front, sfill and silent for a long while. Someone typed some commands fearing a frozen feed. Herc Hansen slapped the monitor twice on the side and grunted self-consciously when Newton's hands moved to straighten Hermann's cardigan. Hermann looked down at them, and then up to meet Newton's eyes.

"Newt", he said, at the same time Newton called his name. The grip between Tendo and Mako's hands tightened.

"Thank you. Honestly. For staying there with me through it all", said Newton.

"Through what?", mouthed Ernie. Herc and Raleigh shrugged.

Hermann fidgeted in his place before mumbling:

"Well, any time, my friend".

It happened quickly. Newton brought his hands up to cup Hermann's face and gently kissed his lips chastly and briefly. Then it was over.

A tense silence took over the LOCCENT for three whole seconds. Then the place erupted in a cacophony of complaints and victorious cries, many of which came from people that hadn't bet on the kiss, or weren't even in the pool, like Raleigh. As the clamor died down a commanding voice startled everyone.

"Miss Mori!", called the Marshal. Every soul stood to attention immediately. "I expect a share of the pudding on account of providing you with privileged information about the doctors' past", he said, unable to conceal his amusement.

After the Marshal words sunk in, a new clamor started, screen and headsets forgotten. On a small rectangle, in black and white, Newton Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb had disappeared again under the workbench.

#Newmann Secret Santa #Newmann #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #bipolar newton geiszler #cw anxiety #betting #mako ships it #tendo ships it #pentecost ships it

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densi-mber · 3 years

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Christmas Miracles

A/N: I decided to start off the celebration on a high note for Densi so interpreted this prompt creatively.

***

“Hey, we’ve gotten a lot better at this,” Kensi observed as she threaded a new strand of multicolored lights Deeks. He wound them around the middle section of the Christmas tree, moving aside a branch of two.

“I told you it helps when the lights aren’t in a tangled ball,” he teased.

“One time.” Kensi held up a finger for a second, shaking her head. “I didn’t follow the “Marty Deeks Protocol for Storing Christmas Lights” one time and now I will never hear the end of it.”

“I never did get those undone. I wonder what Callen did with them.” Deeks frowned for a second, presumably contemplating the thought of Callen decorating a nonexistent tree.

“I’m pretty sure he threw them away the minute he got home.”

“That’s rude,” Deeks said lightly, surveying his work with a critical eye. “Hm, that’s a little unbalanced.”

Stepping back, Kensi waited while he rearranged some of the lights just so. Based on previous years, Kensi knew that he would fiddle with them until he thought they looked perfectly scattered without leaving any large gaps.

While he finished with that, Kensi started digging through the ornament boxes. Last year, between trying to move, Deeks being at FLETC, and her own faltering mental health, Kensi hadn’t felt much like decorating. At one point, just the thought of putting up a tree and pretending to be cheery made her feel nauseous.

Thankfully, while all their worries weren’t magically gone, she felt in a much better frame of mind to celebrate this year. Deeks seemed in better spirits too without FLETC hanging over his head.

She pulled out a couple of large, bulbous green, red, and purple ornaments that had been a present from Deeks’ mom. They were almost pretty, in a garish kind of way. Kensi wasn’t totally convinced that Roberta hadn’t given them as a gag gift.

“Hey, where do you want to put your mom’s ornaments?” she asked, turning with one dangling in each hand. Deeks sucked in a deep breath as he scrunched up his face in consideration. They came across the same question every single year.

“Near the bottom so they don’t break any branches, but not so low that my mom thinks we’re dissing her gift. And definitely not towards the back since last year she accused us of hiding them,” he decided. “But not so obvious that if Nell and Eric happen to visit, it makes them wonder where their ornament is.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not.” Kensi shuddered as the image of a white horse with a black and neon pink details, green hair, and a psychotic grin came to mind. “That thing gives me nightmares.”

“I swear Nell bought it just for our reactions. She always gets this slightly evil expression when she mentions it.”

“Definitely wouldn’t put it past her.” Sighing, she grabbed a couple more ornaments and passed them up to Deeks. “We’ll just stick the crazy horse behind the vintage elves from my mom and if anyone else tries to give us decorations, they’re going straight into the goodwill pile.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable,” Deeks said and though she couldn’t see his face from this angle, she was sure he was smiling. “Somehow I don’t think we have to worry about Callen buying us any kind of decoration.”

They were just about done hanging ornaments, when Kensi’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.

“Oh, it’s Sandra, our adoption coordinator,” she told Deeks, brows furrowing. As far as she knew, they’d completed all the paperwork, interviews, and other requirements to be considered for adoption, but maybe they’d missed something. She caught Deeks’ eye as she accepted the call, hoping that there weren’t any issues.

“Hi, this is Kensi. Yes, we did. Really? No, thank you for calling.” Deeks gave her a searching look as she listened to the women on the other end of the line.

“Kens,” he hissed, but she held up her hand, concentrating on everything Sandra said. “Right. Yes, we can come down tomorrow. Thank you so much.”

“Kensi, what the hell is going on?” Deeks demanded the second she hung up. A plain blue bulb hung loosely between his thumb and forefinger, apparently forgotten. “Did we accidentally check “divorced”or something on the paperwork?”

“Um, no.” Kensi shook her head and chuckled incredulously. “Sandra said they have a placement for us. She wants us to go to the adoption center to meet him tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Holy crap,” Deeks breathed, sounding dazed. He looked just as shocked as she felt. He reached for her and Kensi fell against his chest, gripping his shoulders. “Is this really happening?”

“I think so. It seems impossible,” Kensi said, starting to feel a little giddy. “It’s been so long and Sandra had said we should expect to wait at least a couple months before we heard anything.”

“This is crazy.” Deeks shook his head again, eyes moving around the room, focusing on the mantle above their electric fireplace. “Crap, we’re going to need to buy another Christmas stocking,” he muttered giddily. “And presents.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” Kensi gasped, kissing him with tears of joy leaking down her cheeks. “And I’ve never been happier.”

***

A/N: So, as you might have concluded, we have a crazy horse ornament that my mom got in Mexico when she was a girl. We put it on the tree every year. Mom insists.

#densi-mber 5.0 #densimber 2021 #day 1 #ejzah fanfiction #densi #marty deeks #kensi blye #fluff #by ejzah

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