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shallowseeker · 1 year

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Hey, Cas is semi-canonically partial to Ecclesiastes + more about windmills and futility

(I cannot remember which script but I believe it's something he suggests to Jack in season 13 or 14.)

But anyway, his praises for Ecclesiastes are fascinating and lovely. (You should give it a whirl, even if the Bible is not typically your book of choice.) There are things in Ecclesiastes that are so Cas. (I think of Season 10’s Cas: “Oh, I have seen the glory and reaped vast rewards…”)

Ecclesiastical nihilism is relevant for all of SPN’s soldier-marked characters, but especially season 7 Cas and of course AU Michael. (See also: Dean, Mary, Raphael.)

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Ecclesiastes begins:

2 “Meaningless! Meaningless! says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”

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-OR-

2 “Futility of futilities,” says the Preacher, “Futility of futilities! All is futility.”

…

Also, the sun rises and the sun sets; And hurrying to its place it rises there again. Blowing toward the south, Then turning toward the north, The wind continues swirling along; And on its circular courses the wind returns.

-Ecclesiastes (NASB)

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(Cas is right, Jack. You should read Ecclesiastes. He’s wry and dare I say acerbic at times? For, you know, an ancient philosopher.)

“…unhappy to me; because everything is futility and striving after wind…”

- Ecclesiastes (NASB)

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Cas's existential crisis, nihilism, and fear (season 7)

This mindset calls to memory so much of season 7-Cas, but here in particular:

Meg: What dogs? [to Dean]He says he's surrounded by unhappy dogs. Castiel: They're chasing a rabbit around [indistinct]… Meg: Oh. Okay. He's at a dog track in Perth. Castiel: I'm surrounded by large unhappy dogs. Meg: Yeah, they're unhappy 'cause the rabbit's fake. Castiel: [to Meg] You know, those racing dogs were absolutely miserable. They can only think in ovals.

-Reading is Fundamental (SPN, season 7)

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Cas is beaten down after billions of years of military service. He’s effectively frozen. He laments the repetition of war and procreation and finding no meaning in it.

He tries focusing on smaller perspectives: bees, gardens, flowers. He’s trying to find a plan in it all. A divine plan would give it meaning. More importantly, a “laid-out route of flowers,” would give it a meaning he doesn’t have to discover for himself.

So, he devolves into a kind of self-horror in his own participation in the machine, in the repetitious nihilism. Ecclesiastically, he laments his place in the cosmic hierarchy. With respect to his loved ones on earth, he despairs over the pain of gaining wisdom, the shame of his prideful mistakes, and of the recognition of his own violent nature, that he “will destroy…again.” (No matter what pretty things he stood for, he was angry at Heaven. He did want to punish them.)

"Because in much wisdom there is much grief; and increasing knowledge results in increasing pain." (-Ecclesiastes, again)

The “punishment resurrection” gets more painful each time, as Cas said. Why? Wisdom.

///

How do you make meaning out of senselessness? Do you find it in each other?

Later, if you read too much into 12x19’s “The Future,” (as I do), you’ll note that Thank You (Led Zeppelin) seems like it could unofficially be Dean and Cas’s "song." After all, the scripted, "Cas...thank you," is such a loaded phrase to find in a script, coming on the heels of the Led Zeppelin mixtape. There are things about Thank You that echo Ecclesiastes as well, but with opposite meaning. A hopeful meaning. Not a despairing, “All things are wearisome,” but a thankfulness that you got to be here at all, surviving pain and the crumbling cycles together.

(This is indeed the wisdom Cas tries to give to Jack in Ouroboros as Dean lies dying of a gorgon-induced head injury.)

///

So what of the the Ecclesiastical stirring of wind? What of SPN's windmills?

The characters that struggle with meaning-making amidst the futility of war are often marked by the Ecclesiastical windmill of futility, which is why we see this motif with Cas and Dean so often. We see it particularly when they are marching off to war (like when they meet Raphael in Free to Be You and Me), or when Cas dies in war (ashes near a windmill). It also appears as an industrial building fan when linked to demons. On a related note, in season 10, Cas's grace is hidden inside Don Quixote. (Taking into account Metatron's beef with Heaven and archangels, this may be an Animal-Farmesque hit at Heaven's machinations as much as Cas's chivalry.)

Another related motif is the simple house fan. It’s a kinder symbol. There is almost always a fan on the shelf near the taller lamp on Dean’s “Cas” side of the bedroom.

But, importantly, a fan isn’t a windmill. It’s not a grand motif. Not duty. Not enemy. Not cause. Not mission. It's gentle and small, tucked into the bedroom and thus intimate. It’s not made for grand purpose. A fan is simply there to be, to comfort, to bask in a private breeze.

When we see an outright “industrial windmill,” it marks darker things, and it calls to mind other futility symbols, like the windmill of Animal Farm—that complicated grand purpose of design that runs the efforts of the hopeful, dutiful civilians into the ground with its corrupt machinations (it stands in for: hunting, Heaven, demonic deals, and just…most career and “cause”-coded things in SPN).

There is an entire scene dedicated to (alt) Mary dealing with the after effects of her child soldierhood in The Winchesters, episode 5 "Legend of a Mind," set to a rather haunting Dusty Springfield cover of Noel Harrison’s Windmills of Your Mind.

Its lyrics echo Cas’s existential crisis from season 7, and also that of late-seasons Michael and terminal-seasons Dean. And that is no accident.

A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a wheel Never ending nor beginning on an ever-spinning reel As the images unwind Like the circles that you find In the windmills of your mind

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gallawitchxx · 3 years

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the great ship gallavich 🛳

in order to share the great tidings of this blessed ship with a friend, my monster self put together an interactive ditty of 11 seasons of love!!!! which i now share with all of you below the cut! it starts as a story with accompanying clips, but by the end essentially devolves into my most heartfelt opinions of prison boyfriends & silly husbands 🥺😇

please note that it is in no way complete, of course--many i c o n i c scenes are missing--but it is enough to get someone //on board// or to simply enjoy yourself at any point during your love affair with these angsty, sweet, smutty boys.

In short, Ian is a wild ride, Mickey also hops on babe, their love is everlasting, the fandom is alive and well, and who knew that two gay boys from the Southside of Chicago would provide one of the best queer arcs on TV?!

I HOPE YOU LOVE! xx

huge thanks to Gallavich Scenes on youtube for supplying the clips. they do have a playlist of all of the scenes if you're down the rabbit hole and want to fill in the blanks.

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Ian Gallagher is a middle child through and through. Fiona and Lip came before him, after him Debbie, Carl and Liam. Frank and Monica aren't the most attentive parents--Frank's a committed alcoholic, while Monica refuses to medicate for bipolar and has largely ditched the kids for her girlfriend Bob. In fact, Frank's not even Ian's real dad thanks to a brief encounter between Monica and Frank's brother Clayton.That could also account for why he's the only one of the siblings, besides Fiona, to be in ROTC and to work a real job. Well, if you can call stocking shelves at the Kash and Grab a real job. The perks aren't bad though when you're also fucking K*sh, your (older, married) boss. **no need to see any of this gross grooming, ya feel?**

Work has been a bit tough ever since Mandy Milkovich told her brothers that Ian tried to rape her. He didn't of course, just pushed her off when she tried to stick her tongue down his throat. It's not anything against her--he's gay! on the Southside!--but even when she called off the cavalry, her brother Mickey Milkovich (the dirtiest white boy in America **out of chronological order, but so funny**) didn't get the memo. He'd come by the store and terrorize the place, ultimately stealing a gun off of Kash...which Ian went to retrieve... Lord knows what happened in that moment, but it was ON. Things got tense when they were almost caught by Terry, Mickey's violent, homophobic, Nazi father, but in the end, he did get the gun back (plus, a different kind of warning).

So, now, they're hooking up. Like, it's a thing. Until K*sh catches them. **this is quickly becoming ~a theme~** Things got a bit complicated after that, but this should bring you up to speed...

And visit him in juvie he does, and it's the CUTEST FUCKING THING. **also you should know that the hand touching the glass and Mickey's line after were improvised... and also the official script of this scene ends with the stage direction, These two were meant for each other. SWOON!**

Of course, Ian is there when Mickey gets out of juvie and they commence the Summer of Secret Boy Love™️. Ian even gets Mickey a job at the Kash and Grab of all places. A redemption arc/a great excuse to spend more time together. Unfortunately, it's not the most private of places to hook up and Frank catches them, sending Mickey into a rather ~hurtful~ tailspin. He spares Frank, but punches a cop instead and is sent back to juvie. At least in the joint Mickey's safe from the wrath of his homophobic dad, Terry.

Luckily, Ian doesn't have to wait long before Mickey's out again. Well, he didn't really wait.. He's actually been seeing Ned, a much older guy, because has a type (daddy issues). Soon, Mickey's jealous, wondering what Ian sees in that "geriatric viagroid," which leads to their first kiss!!!! And their first sleepover!!!, which feels almost like a first date!!!!

Now BIG TW/CW: Because the gays can never have peace or nice things, Terry comes home early the next morning, catches them fucking and BIGGER TW/CW: beats the shit out of them both, calls a Russian hooker in and makes her r*pe/fuck the gay out of Mickey while Ian watches... This also leads to Mickey beating up Ian when Ian tries to get him to admit that he's gay and in love with him... **again, no need to watch any of this happen, it's fucking awful for everyone**

Also fucking awful, the hooker gets pregnant and Mickey is forced to m a r r y h e r. Ian obviously tries to stop things, but Mickey tells him he doesn't really have a choice here. He goes through with the marriage, Ian freaks and decides to steal Lip's ID and enlist in the army. Mickey can't bring himself to ask him not to... and Ian heads out.

The family starts to worry about Ian, and they soon find out that he deserted basic training after stealing and crashing a helicopter (coolcoolcool), and he's now dancing and turning t r i c k s at a gay club in Boystown (coolcoolcoolcool). They eventually enlist Mickey's help in finding him and Mickey heads to the club in what is undeniably one of his hottest l e w k s of all time. He waits around until the end of Ian's shift, where he finds him drugged and passed out behind the club and takes him home. Mickey's pregnant wife, Svetlana, wants none of whatever this is and kicks Ian out. He goes back to the Gallagher house, saying he'll only go back with Mickey if he promises to please him ~whenever he wants~ !.

Now, this is where we enter the BOYFRIEND ERA. It's good, it's good, IT'S GOOD. First, the CLUB KISS. Then, "together." Next, THIS FUCKING SCENE. Which leads us to an ultimatum, a big fucking deal of a reveal, this truly incredible scene (**most of which is also improvised by Noel fucking Fisher, aka Mickey, aka the most underrated actor of all time**) and finally, two boyfriends, out and together!!!! The fandom is ~beside themselves~.

Only problem is... You may have caught on to the fact that Ian's been acting a bit... manic. And what comes up, must come down. Slash the writers HATE GAY PEOPLE BEING HAPPY TOGETHER... So, after Mickey's big coming out, when he's the MOST TENDER, Ian can't get out of bed, which ultimately leads to this heart breaking scene between the Gallaghers and Mickey, in which they realize he could be bipolar... Ian's able to pull it together long enough to give us this cute moment, this *deleted scene*/ s o f t s e x /manic ~pixie~ dream, and this playful charade. But then, of course, his bipolar starts running the show again -- he cheats on Mickey, makes a bareback porno for money, and steals Mickey's baby -- and the family has no choice but to commit him to a psych ward. **there are many many tender scenes in this season, so if this is your jam, I'm happy to point you in the right direction, but didn't want to overwhelm/depress** They struggle here, of course, and Mickey almost can't handle it, but he pulls it the fuck together and goes to get his man.

Mickey really becomes a great caretaker, helping Ian to take his meds and not feel bad about some of the less than desirable side effects. Seriously, who knew Mickey Milkovich had it in him?!?! But Ian is unhappy and numb, and tries desperately to reconnect with Mickey the only way they know how: drinking, fighting and fucking. Sadly, their joy is cut short due to a plethora of extremely terrible events **again, can send, but ugh** and Ian ends up breaking up with Mickey.

One of those events lands Mickey in prison/Noel Fisher decides to leave the show maybe due to a financially-fueled feud with the showrunner??? and we say goodbye to Mickey for the majority of 2. Whole. Seasons. Ian dates some dudes, but no one is Mickey, the fandom knows this, the writer's know this, and so FINALLY, Mickey escapes from prison, lures Ian to ~their spot~ where he tells him he's going to Mexico and asks him to come with him. Then, they have this lusty night at the docks, this tender morning after, and Ian, of course, decides to go along for the ride!!!!

Their road trip is full of incredible hijinks, roadside rendezvous, and Taylor Swift references. They ditch Mickey's cellmate and finally do put out that blanket and look at shooting stars (**remember their Secret Summer of Boy Love where Mickey roasts him about being too sappy?**), and then they're r i g h t at the border when Ian fucking blows it all to hell. **that's honestly one of my very favorite scenes, especially because a) the kiss is FIRE and b) Mickey's wearing a dress, another thing he swore earlier he wouldn't do, and looks fucking GOOD IN IT**

So, then we're without Mickey again for almost another 2. Whole. Seasons... Ian goes back to Chicago, goes off his meds, starts a movement to stop conversion therapy on queer teens and starts going by G A Y J E S U S **yes, really** before blowing up a van in protest and getting thrown in jail for arson. The good news? His cellmate is really fucking hot. **the kiss was improvised, the Frank Ocean is immaculate, ...just heaven**

Now, we enter the era of PRISON BOYFRIENDS. It's the hottest era if you ask me. They've never looked better. And Noel Fisher signs on again as a series regular, so this is where the fandom gets serviced. We get horny (and frustrated) boys, we get tender talks, we get mutual ILYS, and we get post-prison reunions.

Then, we enter the era of DOMESTIC BITCHES. Also a hot era, but complicated because their shared parole officer ends up dead and Ian and Mickey both think the other did it... So, in the span of just a single episode, we get A PROPOSAL, a CITY HALL KISS BETWEEN FIANCES, a CHANGED MIND, and a BROKEN HEART AND A BROKEN LEG. A true whirlwind. Mickey then pretends to move on, Ian shares some insecurities, and finally we get A REAL PROPOSAL, this fucking hot ass scene in which Mickey stands up to his Dad, many scenes of Bridezilla Mickey (**something we didn't know we needed until we got it**), a tender moment between almost-husbands, and a WEDDING! And before we enter the era of Husbands for real... the SHIP NAME ENTERS CANON. **there are more scenes where all of these storylines are concerned, of course, but I picked you the best ones/the ones that make the most sense without knowing other plot points**

We made it to the final season, the HUSBAND ERA. It's off to an interesting start. The boys negotiate the terms of their marriage, they fight, they have this oddly graphic sex scene that references the Jonas Brothers and then this follow up sex scene to the music of, you guessed it, the Jonas Brothers!, they fight some more, they get put in their places, they try to be a "normal" couple, but realize it's not for them..., they start a security business together, the show decides to cut the only scene in the whole season that shows Mickey being an attentive partner who cares about Ian's mental health..., they steal an ambulance for their new business/pleasure, they help to take care of Terry (Mickey's Dad), who got shot and is paralyzed (but can unfortunately still talk...), they go to a gay orgy (the fandom ~cringed~), they sing Ariana Grande in the bathroom together, they deal with Terry's death (good riddance, motherfucker), they get their own apartment on the *gasp* WEST SIDE where Ian calls Mickey "baby" (the fandom ~rejoiced~), they actually maybe communicate about their feelings???, they wonder if they'll ever be ready to have kids, and they celebrate their first wedding anniversary!!!!

A N D S C E N E ! ! ! ! They live happily, ever after in fanfic forever.

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#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #the great ship gallavich #so this is love #i still can't believe i took the time to make this whole thing #i still can't believe it's only a portion of the amazing scenes they have together #you're welcome?#you're welcome #fandom #fandom love

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tonystarktogo · 3 years

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Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it.

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work.

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

#ReRe answers #archangel-of-peace #if you know the future why are you such an idiot 'verse #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Bruce Banner #Thor Odinson #Loki #Thor's and Loki's complicated relationship #Tony is done with this shit #Steve continuous to fail at being subtle #Thor continuous to out-do him #fic #shit this got long #me: i'm gonna write a three line text post on a hilarious time travel au #also me: *what feels like 2k later but is hopefully an exaggeration* fuck #ReRe writes #time travel shenanigans #lovely people

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val-aquenta · 3 years

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I’m on fire posting these fics. They have mostly been languishing in my drafts, so I really just have to spruce them up a tad to post them ahahah.

Here on ao3

Qui-Gon is the first to call him Ben. Obi-Wan is a name that is too long for him to yell, so he is nicknamed Ben. At least, that’s what he said. Obi-Wan thinks otherwise, obviously.

“Why Ben? What’s wrong with Obi-Wan?” He wonders, not noticing he’s said it out loud until he hears Qui-Gon chuckle. “What?” He flushes, affronted by the cheeky grin on his Master’s face. It is a look that screams trouble.

“A little long, Obi-Wan, huh?” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment from where he is preparing for flight. “Not exactly perfect for yelling when I need your attention.”

Obi-Wan puffs up a bit, not dissimilar to a loth cat Qui-Gon notes with amusement. “Obi-Wan is a good name.” The boy defiantly tries not to pout while saying this. “It’s not like I call you… John.” He mutters softly, voice sounding put off.

“John?” The older man’s wrinkles crease around his eyes as he smiles. He shrugs. “Ben is a good name regardless.” He defends.

“Obi-Wan’s better.” He opposes tetchily, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s so special about Ben anyways?” He asks with curiosity, always eager for new information.

“Well, Ben technically means son of my right hand, a phrase from my homeworld’s main religion.” Qui-Gon murmurs, willing to try and satisfy Obi-Wan’s need for answers. “The religion is… complex. I don’t even understand it completely, but I do understand the meaning of the phrase.” He pauses.

“Well… what’s the meaning of the phrase?” Obi-Wan fiddles with his hands, eyes alight with interest. He flushes self-consciously when Qui-Gon lifts his eyebrows as though proving a point. He ducks his head, a hint of red on his cheeks.

“Well, in the religion, there is an entity called God. And the phrase to be at the right hand refers to being in a space of special honour, the right hand, of God.” He explains, enjoying the way Obi-Wan seems to brighten with the new information. “Being the son of the right hand should mean that you will grow into this space of importance. Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan flushes, freckles disappearing into the deep red colour. Qui-Gon swears the tips of the boy’s ears are red. “That is kind of you to say, Master.”

“It is the truth, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon smiles, clapping a large hand on his shoulder and tugging the boy in for a hug. Obi-Wan startles, tensing for a couple of seconds until he relaxes, shorter arms just barely managing to reach around Qui-Gon.

::::

Satine was the next to call him Ben. You see, Bant never truly latched onto the name that Qui-Gon christened him with, preferring to stick to her shortened form, Obi. Therefore, Satine is the next. She hears it once when they’re getting shot at and Qui-Gon has a plan that has an 80% chance of ending up with all three of them dead, but it’s better than their current odds. Qui-Gon yells it at him to get the boy to pay attention.

At first, Satine is startled, thinking a new ally has joined them but is surprised that it’s just a nickname for Obi-Wan. Granted, she doesn’t call him Ben for that long because she, like Bant, prefers to call him Obi.

She does call him Ben when they’re parting ways, and Obi-Wan’s chest aches something fierce. Qui-Gon watches, eyes somewhat sympathetic as they follow Obi-Wan. He pretends not to notice as they share one small, sweet, innocent kiss. It’s everything Obi-Wan wants, but he hesitates and glances back at his Master, and then pulls away from the embrace, head bowed. It is almost everything he wants, and that makes all the difference. If he stayed, he would abandon his Master and his family in the Temple. More than that, he would abandon his path as a Jedi. Even Satine, for all he cares about her, is not enough to sway him from his path. The Force whispers in his mind, sorrow and apologetic, thankful for his sacrifice. The choice cements and he lets go of Satine.

“Ben…” Satine whispers, the word almost lost in the wind. “I… good luck.” Her blonde hair, carefully arranged on her head, moves as she bows. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your protection.” Obi-Wan bows back, though his head remains tilted down, not willing to look at the woman.

“It was our pleasure,” Qui-Gon responds, sending a little pang of comfort down the growing bond with his Padawan.

“Do be careful.” She says, deviating from her formal script. “Farewell, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi.” The names fall easily onto her tongue as though she hadn’t spent almost a year calling them something else with much more familiarity.

“May the force be with you, Duchess Kryze,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and he walks away from Satine, from the comfort of that life, and into the Jedi transport, his Master, a steady and strong pillar in the Force, ahead of him.

“… Ben?”

“Yes, Master.” Qui-Gon looks as though he wants to say something, wants to spill some secret, but he thinks better of it, instead closing his mouth and opening his arms, catching Obi-Wan as he falls into them.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into the pale ear, his hand stroking circles into Obi-Wan’s shoulders. The boy, because that’s what he is, does not respond, only tightening his grip and inhaling the comforting scent of his Master.

::::

Mace is the third Jedi off the transport ship. He is also the third to call Obi-Wan Ben, though that happened a while back on a joint undercover mission with Qui-Gon. He reverted to calling him Obi-Wan, but then he reverts once more. He’s older and wiser, and, has been a friend ever since Obi-Wan was a small young child of the creche.

“Obi-Wa… Ben.” Obi-Wan’s heart cracks just a bit more. Never again will he hear that familiar voice whispering that name to him. The deep baritone voice rumbling it. It hurts worse than leaving Satine, Cerasi, or Siri, or losing Reeft had. “Sit down with me and let’s talk.”

“Yes, Master Windu.” The response is immediate, drilled into him with years of training.

“Tell me how you feel, Ben.” Mace rumbles, voice not as deep as Qui-Gon’s, but very close. Obi-Wan is certain that if he were to press his ear to the bald Jedi’s chest, he would feel the voice vibrating.

“Fine…” That response is nailed into him out of fear. Fear of not being good enough.

“Really?” Mace murmurs disbelievingly, leaning forwards and taking in the red-tinged eyes. A hand reaches out and takes one of Obi-Wan’s hands, feeling the slight chill that seems to emanate from him. “You don’t look fine to me.” He says in a frank manner that only he can pull off without sounding overly rude.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Obi-Wan responds, more exasperated than he thought it was going to sound.

“Ben… you’re not wrong to be sad. It isn’t wrong to feel loss or to grieve.” Mace says, voice closer to whispering than to speaking. The man scoots closer to Obi-Wan who, in the eyes of the Republic is also a man but, in reality, still feels like the thirteen-year-old being sent to Bandomeer, or the sixteen-year-old who left Satine, or the- “You’ve just lost a man who has been by your side for twelve years. It will hurt.” Obi-Wan laughs, but it is more cracked and painful than any laugh Mace has heard. He desperately scrubbing at his eyes as though he wishes to scour them away.

“I know it hurts, Master. Force, my chest feels as though I was the one who was run through with a lightsaber, not Qu-” His voice breaks around the name, and he devolves into small sobs. Mace observes the boy being thrust into Knighthood with something close to helplessness. He had lost Cyslin in a less brutal manner and yet it had hurt all the same. All Mace can do is offer some comfort to the man. “There’s a hole where he was and I can’t-” Obi-Wan's voice cuts off as he cradles his head in his hands.

“Ben,” Mace says it curtly, as though fully taking advantage of how short it is. Qui-Gon dragged it out a bit, seemingly relishing the way the name made his mouth shape. Satine’s lips always made the name sound sweet. Short and filled with emotions. “Observe and release your emotions.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan admits. He tries to look at his emotions. He can understand, but he can’t release and make them go away. There’s just too much. He says as much to Mace.

“Let me help, Ben.” And it is as though Obi-Wan is a youngling once more, trailing behind Padawan Windu in cream coloured corridors. As though they’ve been transported to a time when Mace’s forehead did not have the stressed wrinkles it does now. As though Obi-Wan hasn’t just had a piece of his heart carved out with a sith lightsaber. Together they sink into meditation, aware of each other, and acknowledging one another. With a little flick from Mace, Obi-Wan begins to reveal his mind warped by guilt and self-loathing and anger and pain and… it’s too much, Mace admits to himself. So, he starts small. A small statement, I was too slow, is given to him, and they watch it together, understand it together, and accept it together. Then, he moves to another, unwanted. And to the dozens that remain. Mace does not judge, and his heart aches at the knowledge of the burdens Obi-Wan is thrusting upon himself, but he says nothing about it, only reaching for the boy… man after their meditation and bringing him into a hug that lasts a full minute.

::::

Cody is a really good researcher. Sure, he’s great with a blaster, and hand to hand combat, and anything to do with the military really. He was trained under Jango Fett and the Kaminoans. But, one of his greatest strengths is his efficient diving into the Holonet. He can splice information from different databases, even the Jedi Temple’s database. Technically, he could just go to the Archives and find the information, but he could be seen there, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sits at the main console of his barracks and begins to get information regarding his new General. The Jedi, Kenobi, seems nice enough, but looks can be deceiving. In this case, however, it seems that they’re not. The little ginger seems to have a kind streak about the size of Ryloth.

“What in the world…” He mutters as browsers pop up. Multiple mission reports that he skims through to reveal another thing. Apparently, the General has a penchant for injuries. A really bad one if the reports are not a joke. He digs through one that was co-written by one Qui-Gon Jinn, and he spots some errors. At least, he’s sure they are errors because he’s pretty sure the General’s called Obi-Wan… not Ben. However, he doubts that the General would let that slide.

“Ben.” He forms the name under breath, making some multi-syllable word from it. “Ben.” He says it curtly. It is more efficient than to say General Kenobi or, Force forbid, Obi-Wan. The Jedi have the oddest names.

“Commander…” He jumps, turning to look at the man in question as he walks into the barracks completely unannounced. “I was, ah, wondering if you would like-” He squints at the console’s screen. Cody flushes deeper than before, the crimson stain spreading around his neck and up to his ears. Caught researching his General by the General in question. Rex will never let it go.

“General Kenobi, sir.” He plants his feet and straightens his back. Obi-Wan looks at the report and then at Cody and then back to the report.

“Did you… hack into the Temple?” He questions curiously.

“Well… I do have the access codes…” He trails off.

“Is this… the mission to Joonta?” The General strokes his beard, leaning forwards to read his report. “Force, my diction was horrible back then. So was Qui-Gon’s.” He scrolls down.

“Sir…”

“Yes, Cody.” He seems oddly enthralled by the report, scrolling rather quickly through the pages.

“Is your name Ben?”

“Sometimes.” Obi-Wan… Ben? Hums. Reading through the report absently. Noticing the silent prompting from Cody, the General shakes himself a bit. “Oh. It’s a nickname given by my Master. Almost no one uses it.”

“Ah.”

“Cody… you can call me Ben if you’d like. I don’t mind.” He stops the frantic scrolling to look at Cody.

“The vod will better understand if I call you General Kenobi, sir,” Cody says while ticking the name onto the General’s name. General Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi. Jedi and their names.

“If that is your wish.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Now, I came here to offer you tea in my quarters. Would you like to come?”

::::

Ahsoka’s always heard of the famous Master Kenobi or Padawan Kenobi or Knight Kenobi in pairs. Padawan Kenobi was always paired with Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi was paired with Padawan Skywalker, and Master Kenobi is paired with Knight Skywalker. Knight Skywalker is now obviously paired with Padawan Tano, so they're all connected. Contrary to what Anakin would think, Padawan Kenobi is the term she’s much more familiar with, and therefore is more familiar with the pairing of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. Even though she knows so much about Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are within all the stories that the Crechemasters say. She knows of the most interesting missions that the duo took and is somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of hero-worship she has for the two.

“Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you had to drink pirates under the table to rescue Master Jinn?” She asks out of the blue one day, noticing the way Anakin’s hand tightens ever-so-slightly, blue eyes dashing to Obi-Wan’s pinched expression. She’s new to her apprenticeship and she still feels overwhelmed if she thinks too hard about the fact that she’s the Padawan of The Anakin Skywalker, and is part of the famous lineage.

“… Yes. Where did you hear that, Ahsoka?” He frowns while stroking his beard, a habit he can’t seem to break. He doesn’t look too annoyed by the question. Instead, he looks amused and rather curious.

“Ages ago, Master, in the creche.” Obi-Wan shrugs and continues, waving off Anakin’s worried words. The smile on his face is nice to see. Ahsoka thinks it looks bad when the Frown is in place, and that is all that has been in place since the invasion of Ryloth began. She’s happy that she could coax a smile out of the typically austere looking man.

A few months later while they’re travelling through hyperspace on Obi-Wan’s ship, Ahsoka blurts another question. Obi-Wan had offered to teach Ahsoka some jar’kai during the hyperspace travel, and Anakin had assented, remaining on his ship while Ahsoka trained with her other Master. “Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you once were eaten by a large squid and then spat out?” She asks at the mess hall. Cody, who was rather peacefully eating his meal thank you very much, chokes on the ration’s he was chowing on. Stitches, the medic, appears to have swallowed water down the wrong pipe and is sending a concerned look at Obi-Wan. The man in question deflates, shrugs, and answers quietly.

“Yes, Ahsoka. On Fuleya. Master Jinn thought I was dead for two minutes. Nearly screamed his throat raw trying to cut me from the beast's stomach.” He shrugs and then proceeds to tap on his datapad as though the clones in the immediate vicinity aren’t looking as though they’re having heart attacks. They’re very… protective of their General sometimes. Ahsoka shrugs as well, turning back to her meal. “Was this also heard in the creche?” He asks with the very amused glint in his eyes. The smile also seems to brighten his face.

Ahsoka feels a warmth in her stomach at having brought another smile to the man’s face, especially considering the stress he seems to be under with the war. “Yes. I heard lots about you.” He shakes his head fondly. She thinks that the smile on his face is worth the possibility that the clones might wrap him in blankets and lock him on the ship. Not that that would be a bad idea thinking about it…

“Master Obi-Wan,” She starts, her head tilted in wonder. This time, they’re alone. They are at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s living room, sharing some tea. Anakin, ever the disliker of tea, had opted out, likely going off to see Padmè. “Is it true that your second name is Ben?” At this, Obi-Wan chokes on his tea, spraying the liquid around the room as he coughs.

Ahsoka startles, putting her own cup down and scooting closer to offer some assistance. “What?” He asks weakly, bringing a hand to his chest. This has been the most intense reaction so far. She rubs her hand softly on his back. Humans are ever so slightly warmer than togruta, and she delights in feeling the warmth through his Jedi robes.

“Barriss told me that Master Unduli told her that Master Windu told her that your second name is Ben.” Ahsoka chatters, looking curiously at the man who lies on the couch.

“Technically, Ben is not my second name. I don’t have one.” Obi-Wan runs a weary hand down his face. “Ben is a nickname given to me by my Master.”

Ahsoka perks up. “Oh, really? Like I’m ‘Snips’ to Anakin?” She questions, excited to learn more of the rather mysterious Master.

“Well, I suppose? Ben probably has more thought put into it than Snips.” He smirks playfully.

“How so?” At this Obi-Wan flinches. Ahsoka casts him another worried look but he waves it off.

“It’s a name meaning that I‘ll be special, essentially. It’s native to Qui-Gon’s homeworld.” He smiles softly at Ahsoka. “Much better than ‘Don’t get snippy with me.’” She laughs, happy to once more bring another smile to his face.

“Maybe.” She concedes. “I like Snips though.” Obi-Wan lifts an amused brow.

“I like Ben too.” They smile at each other.

::::

Luke never knows Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan. The thing is, Obi-Wan is dead before Luke is even born. In his place, Ben Kenobi is there. He knows the rough and weathered hand of Ben, not the smooth hand of Obi-Wan. He listens to the voice of Ben, not Obi-Wan. Because of that, there is no need for Luke to call Ben anything but Ben.

“Ben… why are you called Ben?” He asks one day. Owen is feeling in a more forgiving mood and Beru probably took pity on the sad old man, and they have allowed Ben to visit for a bit.

“The same reason you’re called Luke. I was named Ben.” He responds with a slight smile.

“Your Mom named you Ben?” Luke asks head tilted in curiosity much like another youngling tilted her head while asking about the name Ben. He wonders where the young togruta is, or even whether she’s still alive.

“No. My… father named me Ben." He swears that there is the gentle hum of laughter in the deep rumbling voice of his Master floating through the air. He looks around, but just the typical homestead surrounds him.

“Oh. That’s cool.” And that’s that. The boy runs away to the deeper parts of the house, a smile on his face. In his hands, a soft blue blanket flies in the wind.

::::

Vader knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is. He is the man who took everything from him. He took his unborn child, his wife, his limbs, and his potential. Vader is sure that most of his problems stem from this Obi-Wan. Vader, however, does not know who Ben Kenobi is. You see, Anakin never knew Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan together long enough to know of the nickname. He wasn’t there as Qui-Gon whispered the name softly before his death. He never listened to Master Windu sigh his name as the two were chatting as they walked the halls. He never listened to the now-dead Duchess whispering nicknames into the ear of his former Master. He never listened to Cody jokingly calling the ginger, Ben. He never noticed how Ahsoka would whisper to Master Ben sometimes. Because of this, he misses the Jedi Master in his hiding spot.

“Darth Vader. Have you found your former Master as I asked?” Sidious sits on his throne of lies and steeples his fingers, wretched features obscured by his long, dark robe.

“No, my Lord.” The man bows stiffly at the waist, metal limbs not allowing anything truly graceful. “Kenobi is elusive, but he is old. Soon, he will be dead.”

Unknown to the two, Ben Kenobi, not Obi-Wan because that man died alongside the thousands of Jedi in the Purge, watches as a boy, the son of his fallen brother, plays in the sand, a toy spaceship in hand. Ben sits on the tip of a dune, smiling at the happiness the boy unknowingly projects as he wooshes the ship around above him. Ben’s hands are busy, carving a new ship for the child. He plans to make a Nubian for the boy.

“Ben!” The boy shouts across the desert, waving his hand. “Hello!” Ben smiles, and waves his hand in a silent greeting before he stands, joints creaking as he does, and turns back to his hut. Another day and the boy is safe. Cocooned in the silence of Tatooine, Ben takes comfort in the setting suns.

“Ben.” He hears the wind whisper, joining the deep baritone of Qui-Gon, the dulcet tones of Satine, the curt voice of Mace, the kind voice of Cody, and the young voice of Ahsoka. Luke’s toddler voice adds itself to the litany of voices, and Ben grins, watching the ever-changing dunes. Today was a good day. Seeing Luke usually makes his day, and this is one of those instances. A visit from his Master would do him good, he thinks. Soon, he will be too old for the lessons that the man has planned, but he plans to enjoy them while they last. Ben walks into the dunes, towards his hut. He might only have the ghost of one of the people who called him Ben, but he carries the other four close to his heart, carefully adding one more to that collection. The newest addition has a clear voice that is destined to deepen as he ages.

“How was your day, Padawan?” Qui-Gon is standing in front of the hut, serene as he was in life. Perhaps even more so.

Obi-Wan smiles wryly, feeling at peace for one of the first times in a while, “Quite nice, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiles indulgently, pleased that Obi-Wan still finds some joy in his life, “That is comforting to hear, Ben.”

#fanfic #star wars fanfic #duna writes #obi wan kenobi #mace windu #qui gon jinn #satine kryze #The slightest hint of obitine #obitine #Ahsoka Tano #commander cody #anakin skywalker

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soemthingsparkly · 4 years

Text

You Take Priority.

Reggie’s parents don’t notice his absence, but his friends do. A beach episode (kind of) (not really) (there’s a bonfire, tho).

1.3k words.

Reggie centric. Background Willie/Alex. Background Julie/Luke. Fully Sunset Curve. Nice.

(Ao3)

~~~~~~~~ After his parents stopped noticing him, Reggie began to demonize relationships.

Even now, 25 years later, the sour love between his parents still haunt him.

Sure, he jokes with Luke about his chemistry with Julie. Luke is rarely knocked off balance and its fun to see what the mere mention of Julie does to him.

And of course, he's rooting for Alex and Willie. I mean, why wouldn't he? Willie is fun and kind and makes Alex smile. He makes Alex less nervous and Reggie would be a bastard forl not to want that for his friend.

And when things work out, he wants to be happy for them. He does. He really, really wants to feel it.

But its not there.

Because whenever someone he loves enters a romantic relationship, it only means one thing for him: redundancy. He becomes obsolete.

He feels terrible about these feelings; they're petty and self-centred, but they're relentless.

So when Julie and Luke finally get together and Alex has Willie back, he knows he should be happy for his friends, for his bandmates and brothers...

But instead he feels ostracized, out of the loop.

And that's why he decides to take a walk one evening.

It starts with band practice, with some new melodies that were yet to be attached to any lyrics. But over time the session devolves. beginning with Julie and Luke bickering over the chord progression.

"I can't go that high, Julie," Luke argues when Julie's hand moves towards the upper end of the keys and plays an E#.

"Just stretch, you'll get it."

A coy smile grows on Luke's face. He hooks his thumb around his guitar strap as he lifts his eyebrows. "Oh, I see what this is. You just want the song all for yourself, don't you, Molina?"

As usual, Reggie and Alex share a good natured smile. This again, huh?

But then Willie arrives and Alex's concentration is gone - “wait so, how do you do that board flippy thingy?” - and Reggie complies with the script by rolling his eyes, as usual.

And then he stands there, holding his bass, plucking his strings absent-mindedly, testing out some chords Luke had mentioned earlier, watching the two couples interact.

Alex lets Willie tap on his drums, while Julie and Luke share the keyboard stool, messing with keys and notes and chords.

And watching them like this, seeing them so close to one another like this...

There's a crashing in his ears. He feels that same tension from '95 bleeding through time to find him. The whole world was compounding on him, the studio imploding.

This again.

As calmly as he can, he places his bass in its regular stand and slowly backs out of the studio.

Luke is the first to notice. "Hey, Reg, you going somewhere?"

The entire room stops what they're doing to look at him. Reggie hesiatates

"Uh," he says, befote throwing a nochalant thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah, I thought I'd just go check on Ray. Or Carlos. Carlos has this sweet new game that I'm, like, dying to try out, so."

Luke raises an eyebrow. "Okay. You want me to come with?"

"What? No. No, no, it's cool. It's good."

Luke eyes him for a moment. "Okay, well, come back soon, okay? I wanna run some idea past you for a cool new baseline I've been thinking about."

"Sure."

Reggie finds himself on the beach, outside the bike rental shop that used to be his parent's house. Even with the walls gone, he could still imagine it - pale blue cladding, a porch with his dad's favourite chair, a burgundy front door.

And inside? Shouting, smashing plates, air filled with kindling.

He sighed, turning his back on the imagined house and looking out at the sea. He dropped onto the sand and wrapped his arms around his knees.

He'd always liked watching the sea when he was younger. Whenever his dad said something purposely terse, or his mum let the casserole burn, he'd come out here, and just stare ahead.

They didn't notice when he went out. Even when he came back inside and found his parents were watching TV, sitting side by side, but never touching, not anymore.

"Reggie," his mom would say.

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to do your homework."

A few hundred metres away, sat a circle of teens around a small campfire. The embers provided little respite from the overcast night. He heard a girl scream as her friend grabbed her around the waist, quickly followed by a giggle.

He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek.

"There you are."

Reggie couldn't bring himself to look up, instead he dropped his chin to chest and exhaled slowly.

Luke - always Luke - dropped down besides him, knocking Reggie's shoulder with his own.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Reggie sniffed. "You found me," he said, with a choked laugh. "I just thought..." He nodded at the campfire teens. "Thought I'd check out the cookout, see if there were any cute girls."

Luke chuckled at that, which made Reggie smile somewhat. "Any luck?"

Reggie shrugged a shoulder. "Haven't quite made it over yet."

Luke nods. "Lifers," he says, understandably.

Another soft poof and Alex is there, too. "Hey guys, we having a band meet? What's going on?"

Reggie sniffs again and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

"Dude, you okay?"

He nods and gestures to the teens and the fire. "Just some ash in my eye. It's cool."

Alex looks over his shoulder, first at the circle of lifers, then further back, to the bike rental place. "Ah." He turns back and softens. "I get it."

The three sit there for a while, listening to the laughter of the teens and the gentle roll of the ocean.

"You guys should get back," Reggie says eventually.

"Get back?" Luke asks.

"Yeah, I mean, Julie and Willie will be wondering where you went, right?"

Alex sighed and Luke put his arm around Reggie's shoulders. "Nah, we're here with you. They're both fine."

Alex nodded and bumped his knee against Reggie's. "Yeah, dude, you're priority."

And that's it, that's the one that breaks him. He puts his hands over his eyes and dissolves into himself. Luke rubs circles on his back and Alex leans against him.

"Let it out, dude," Luke says.

After a while, Reggie takes a deep, shuddering breath. Luke squeezes his shoulder and makes Reggie look at him.

"You never have to be alone, Reg," he says. "We're together, no matter what."

"Isn't that what they say?" Alex asks. "Those who die together continue to haunt the living together or something like that?"

Reggie snorts. "I don't haunt, I hang out."

"Yeah, sure, cause you were just hanging out when you caused Tià to have an aneurysm, huh?"

"That was for Carlos."

"So, you still planning on joining the party?" Luke asked, jutting his chin at the beach teens.

Reggie swallows and shakes his head. He plucked at the uncharacteristic sweater he was wearing - now that Julie could touch them, Reggie was a big fan of stealing her sweaters. "Nah, I don't think I'm dressed for it."

"You wanna go back?" Luke asks. "We can stay, if you want."

Reggie shakes his head again. "I'm good." He smiled at Luke, then at Alex. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime," Alex says, putting his pinky out for Reggie to hook. "Brothers, right?"

Across the beach, the circle of teens talk amongst themselves, unaware of three of the three phantoms sitting in the sand, mere meters away, fingers locked together in a playground promise.

One girl uses her mobile data to show another girl a youtube video. "They're Julie and The Phantoms, my sister goes to school with the lead singer."

"No way, really?"

"Mhm."

"I have a friend in Sweden who says the drummer is his sister's boyfriend," one of the boys offers.

"Sweden?"

"They're holograms."

"Damn. That's kinda sick."

When the teens crane their necks to peer the small phone screen, they fail to notice when the fire stutters and bows in the direction of the bike rental shop.

And nobody notices the departure of three ghosts who refuse to fade into obsolencey.

#jatp #Reggie Peters #reggie molina #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #Alex Mercer #luke patterson #julie molina #ray molina #willie jatp #hurt comfort jatp #Jaz writes Jatp Fic #jaz writes jatp

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pinkjiminssi · 3 years

Text

So.. About That Hickey..

I think I’m still processing all of this and reminding myself I’m not dreaming 🤣 I seriously only got 3 hours of sleep last night and when I woke up the first thing I did was check twitter to be sure this “drunk bridal-style spinning hickey neck biting proudly showing off” moment actually happened!!

.. I hate the way my brain works though. I was so happy that it took me forever to fall asleep, spent all day on cloud 9 despite being tired, .. and then my old nemesis, anxiety, stepped in. Well kind of. TBH if all of the MOTS ON:E Jikook moments we got happened with Jimin/anyone else or Jungkook/anyone else.. I would seriously be sitting here saying “well fuck.. I believe they WERE a couple, but looking at all of this it seems they are no longer together.” So really, this just confirmed what I already knew about Jimin and Jungkook: they’re a couple. My anxiety is over.. why? Why show us this? If they can cover all of JK’s tattoos, a hickey/bite mark/whatever we’re calling it should be super easy to hide. Sure it was just rehearsal.. but it was rehearsal with cameras rolling with every intention of releasing what was being filmed as future content. It could have (and some might argue should have) been covered.

Guys... I’m confused. And concerned. ❗❗❗ TW for drama, hate, homophobia, the usual anti issues

That “official” explanation.. again.. why? I’m assuming Jimin and Jungkook were asked and allowed to explain because of the chance of it being spotted and armys freaking out, so BH (or possibly even Jikook) thought to get ahead of the speculation by just being up front about it all.. but THAT explanation? I suppose it works for covering up the army panic of “Jungkook has a girlfriend?! *insert fangirl sobbing*” .. but that’s literally all it does (and only barely if you go looking at some of the anti’s reactions to it all). Really, all it did was draw even more attention and speculation. I mean.. this is, essentially, what we were told: Jimin and Jungkook were together the night before drinking, apparently without the other members as they didn’t seem to know all of this already (and they would have if they had been there), somehow hanging out and having drinks turns into Jungkook picking Jimin up bridal style (random but some of the k-army reactions on twitter were translating through google into “princess style” and I just think that’s so cute 🥰), spinning ensues, Jimin gets dizzy and wants Jungkook to put him down, ... and so he proceeds to do the only logical thing that any of us would have done in that situation... biting Jungkook’s neck? And hard enough to leave a mark the next day?? And instead of being peeved about it (like most of us would have been if our friend bit the crap out of us), Jungkook looks happy?? proud even???

And they arrived together the next day and continue to be cute and playful?

I just.. I mean.. come on. First of all.. that’s a hickey. A bite leaves teeth marks. And one would assume a wild, drunken “let me down” chomp would be something that happens suddenly and ends very quickly. I know I for sure would drop someone on their ass if they decided to take a bite out of my neck (assuming I was even picking up and spinning around with one of my friends like that to begin with.. but let’s not even get into why that was going on at this point) .. but the way this bruised? Yeah. There were no teeth involved (at least not hard enough to leave indentations) and this took more than a couple of seconds of mouth-to-neck contact to still be that visible the next day. So.. in short. Jungkook arrives with a hickey, JK decides to not cover it up (or he would have shown up with it hidden and we see him get out of the car that morning with it clearly visible), BH staff sees it and also decides to not have it covered up and actually have it explained... and the explanation is “oh yeah Jimin just bit him, you know.. no big deal hehehe isn’t that funny?” 🤯 WHAT?! Yeah.. that’s totally normal, platonic behavior between adults...

I’m not saying Jimin and Jungkook are lying btw. I have no doubt it played out more or less exactly as they said with the exception of what they’re calling the end result. Jimin and Jungkook are fine.. I mean, what were they supposed to say? They’re not going to show up saying Jimin was sucking on Jungkook’s neck the night before. We’ll probably never know why Jungkook decided to not cover it up before arriving, but it’s his body and he gets to decide. It’s BH that has me so puzzled. Other than antis and people who refuse to see what’s literally right in front of their faces when it comes to Jikook.. who were BH expecting to believe the bite thing? Just among staff and the other members, it’s a laughable but safe “oh of course *wink wink*” explanation that allows everyone to carry on like normal. But to the public who don’t know them personally, don’t know their usual behavior and patterns, and who don’t have something like a non-disclosure agreement or professional courtesy preventing them from openly speculating.. it doesn’t fly. Pretty much everyone teen and up knows what a hickey looks like (either from having gotten/given one or at least seeing one on someone else in person or online). It’s immediately obvious what it is. And even if there was some uncertainty.. that it’s on his neck (instead of other easily accessible and less sensitive/stimulating locations) and just so happens to be right near his mole as it Jimin were aiming for it? Just another “too many coincidences” thing when it comes to Jikook.

Even antis on twitter couldn’t deny what it was and, so, had to resort to the “well I do that with my sibling and my uncle’s pet raccoon all the time it’s just family things” excuse and/or the “yeah well someone ELSE in the group (or a girlfriend) gave him that and they’re just covering by saying it was Jimin.” Oh. And the same old “it’s just fan service” excuse (as if Jungkook would let someone bruise his neck for the purposes of fanservice which, again, BTS has never done or needed to do. Forever pissed off that so many in this fandom act like Jungkook is a puppet doing whatever the “evil company” tells him to do regardless of his personal feelings or boundaries. The man has tattoos covering nearly every inch of his arm despite that being looked down on in Korea. At this point he can do whatever the fuck he wants). So.. why?? Seriously, why? This all could have easily been avoided with simple makeup.

When they’re doing official content they’re all literally followed around by a flurry of staff fixing hair, dabbing sweat, touching up makeup, etc. Even though it was rehearsal, staff were everywhere in the footage that’s made its way online. If they were worried that it would be seen in the background and “taken the wrong way,” just have the staff occasionally touch up the makeup. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” But instead of doing the obvious, BH decides to: not cover it, draw attention to it by asking about it and letting them continue to talk about it, go out of their way to get a camera on it, and then include it in the final cut of the content they sent out?

BTS is literally the most popular group in the world right now and BH has become a behemoth of a company that runs like a well-oiled machine. They’re not stupid; this was not a mistake. For some reason they wanted us to see this and, one would assume based on the lack of a more believable explanation, they wanted us to come to the conclusion that we all have: Jimin gave Jungkook a hickey. You know they have teams dedicated to monitoring reactions to content on social media. You know they know the dialog surrounding Rosebowl, Black Swan MMA, the Memories 2020 “almost kiss,” etc. etc. All of this got “jikook,” “hickey” and variations of their names trending for HOURS (in multiple countries and worldwide).

Out of curiosity, I decided to check the trends at the time of writing this. As of 3 AM CST (about 24 hours AFTER the clips started showing up online), there was still a hashtag trending related to all of this: #FREEJUNGKOOK.. and the tweets being directed toward BH are.. disturbing to say the least:

While I agree that the boys should trend more often based on their talents and music.. what’s going on right now is a homophobic 💩 show accusing BH of “scripting” interactions (rather than.. you know.. Jungkook interacting with whoever he wants however he wants.. the usual “mindless puppet JK” narrative), trying to coordinate the mass sending of angry emails, trying to get people to stop buying paid content, accusing BH of taking advantage of the members.. I mean it goes on and on. And BH know what’s going on right now. They’re seeing the reactions... the good and the extremely negative. And still they let this out. And this is all not even CONSIDERING the mountain of other moments that made the cut on MOTS ON:E.

(side note, the above pic just oozes happiness and it’s so cute I love it!! 😭)

So.. even though I’ve said it dozens of times already... WHY? W H Y? I’m an anxious person by nature and not very trusting. I believe Jimin and Jungkook and I don’t think they’ve been lying and pretending for “fanservice” all of these years. I respect them both too much as individuals and artists to believe that they would stoop to such tactics just to generate a little more “interest” and revenue. I’m suspicious of BH. BTS doesn’t need fanservice to get attention; literally all of 2020 and 2021 so far has proven that beyond a doubt. Even if they suddenly made the decision to do fs.. why not go with the most popular ship (taekook) or at least one that isn’t so hotly debated on social media (remove Jimin, Jungkook and Tae from the equation and you still have four members to “play” with who have much less potential to have fs devolve into a toxic crap show all over the internet). Showing us this will do nothing to help BTS as a group or Jimin and Jungkook at this point. In fact.. all it can do is hurt. Hurt BH, hurt the group, and hurt the individual members, heck.. even potentially hurt other BH/HYBE groups. I’ve already seen people on twitter saying they’re “done” spending money on anything BH or BTS puts out because they’re “sick of jikook in their faces and just two of the seven hogging all of the screen time.” Whether or not that “spending freeze” actually materializes into anything noticeable remains to be seen of course.. but the threat is there and always has been. What is the motive? And why now? As much as my “hopeless romantic” heart would like to believe they’re preparing us for Jikook to be “out” .. I seriously don’t think that is ever going to happen. Certainly not now at the height of the group’s fame, with them being given Presidential honors and ambassador status, and with military service still looming over them all. And let’s not forget... Korea is NOT a safe place for a queer couple. Letting us see and know what they did through what was released has the potential to put Jimin and Jungkook (and the other members by proxy) in danger. Sure.. BTS has never been hardline rule followers and have been breaking molds and shattering norms from the start, so “officially” having an openly gay couple in the group wouldn’t be impossible.. just... highly highly improbable. Especially right now... and I’m concerned. I don’t want to sound like the creeps I posted a screenshot of above throwing blame at the company. The boys chose to renew their contracts with the for a reason so we have to trust their judgement as a group... but still, I’m worried and I’m questioning what the purpose was here.

#jikook #drama #kat thoughts #sorry for being a downer...#I'm stressed :(

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator. And racism. You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick. I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’. He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living. Naturally it’s not as simple as that. Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight. Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all. Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it. Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first. The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny. There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever. The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river. The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless. Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie. The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss. This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile. It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’. There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it? All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen. We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others. They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals. Holy shit. I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t. Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie. Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped. We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him). We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive. Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight. The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it. The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle. Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people. Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims. These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves. The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there. The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too. By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages. They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave. Is it really that easy to kill a god? Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway? Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism. One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle. Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them. You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’. You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat. Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature. Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out. The Kuma literally say as much. So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end? Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian? I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room. Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle). Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can. You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year. I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie. I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed. Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce. Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it. The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist. I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the river of the great alligator #the great alligator #fuck this movie #fuck it so much #70s

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derl30 · 3 years

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ALTERED STATES REVIEW TIME!

OK, this tumblr is, today, a vehicle for me to review ALTERED STATES. And you (the one person who stumbled on this review two-hundred years from n- oh who am I kidding, when the aliens from A.I. who show up to thaw out Haley Joel Osment and the teddy bear who was the real hero of that movie find this) should be very excited about this. Because this movie is insane. And highly entertaining.

Yes, the movie poster looks like ass. If I told you this was a movie where William Hurt (not the William Hurt from that awful 90's Lost in Space remake, or the one who slept through an entire performance as Duke Leto in the Syfy miniseries of Dune. This is before the body snatchers got him) took ayahuasca and got in a isolation tank and it blew his mind so hard he started devolving into a neanderthal and creating dimensional portals and he couldn't stop because he was addicted to finding the truth of existence... Well you wouldn't get that from this poster, would you? So let's move on. Shall we?

The film opens in 1967 with William Hurt's character, psychopathologist Edward Jessup, already immersed in a sensory deprivation tank, whilst his colleague and “buddy” Bob Balaban (he's just Bob Balaban in everything I'm not giving you his character's name look it up yourself if it's bugging you so much) oversees.

Now, you may notice I put buddy in quotes. The reason for that is that Jessup is a self-obsessed ass who seemingly has no reason to be around other people unless he can expound to them one of his various monologues. Bob Balaban barely gets a word in edgewise throughout the entire film. Bob Balaban.

See, Jessup loves the sensory deprivation tank experience. Unsurprisingly, as it allows him to be completely alone with himself for hours.

Later, at perhaps the lamest party ever, a bunch of faculty are chilling out and listening to the Doors. Everyone we see is talking about Jessup. Why? Well, much as Jessup is obsessed with himself, everyone else seems to follow suit by being obsessed with him. One young woman, Emily, (Blair Brown) is introduced to him in this very shot below as he arrives at the party:

Notice how is framed in holy light? There is a closeup after, of him framed in blinding glowing light followed up with a zoom in on Emily's face, enraptured with this incredible dynamic man. So much so that the moment he tries to make a goddamn sandwich she starts grabbing his celery (get your mind out of the gutter) and flirting with him. Which for these two that means talking science, immediately. Talking more at each other than with each other. This is often the way with Paddy Chayefsky's scripts.

PAUSE

Paddy Chayefsky is doubtless one of the great American writers for the screen. He wrote Marty, The Hospital and Network (which is a fucking incredible piece of work). He got an Oscar for all three. He also wrote this movie (Altered States, remember? Good lord) and disowned it completely three weeks in to production. His scripts tend to have very intelligent, driven characters at the center, who monologue extensively at each other. These scripts are not attempting to sound naturalistic.

Ken Russell, however, directed the film. He, like Chayefsky, is top notch at what he does (Direct. I said he directed the film like a second ago, come on keep up). His films, like Women in Love, The Devils, (which was banned in several major countries upon release and has never been shown publicly in its full, uncut form (by the way it's a masterpiece)) the Who's Tommy, Gothic, and Lair of the White Worm are all fucking gonzo nuts. I mean like, when you gave this guy the reins, you were going to Overthetopsville and there will be no stops on this trip. And god bless! I love directors who GO for it!

You're getting the chance to make a movie. Stop hemming and hawing and hit me over the head with what you want to say! Film is a visual medium, USE IT!

I feel I might have made my feelings clear here. So, moving on...

Ken Russell and Paddy Chayefsky immediately started butting heads, right from the start. Chayefsky was a BIG deal, and he wanted control over the picture in a BIG way. Ken would listen to his suggestions on everything to lighting and set dressing, and politely tell him, “No.”, and continue being the director of the film. Chayefsky hated him pretty quickly.

He had much more control over films like The Hospital. Which, if you watch The Hospital, well, it shows. You've got great actors (George C. Scott, Dame Diana Rigg (Dame may be the greatest official title of all time)) saying great dialogue. But its just two very witty bitter people sort of expounding on topics and speaking at each other and suddenly admitting they are in love and discussing what drapes they will have to buy for their new home. It's utterly preposterous, and it doesn't work in the way Sidney Lumet got it to work in Network, by literally making one of the lead characters realize his life is turning into a ludicrous soap opera.

So of course Ken tried to humanize, naturalize, the dialogue sequences. And it works! The film feels more human than the Hospital or Network. Despite the fact that Jessup is literally becoming more and more inhuman throughout the film. One of the ways he does this is by having the character's eat, drink, and work on other things during the dialogue sequences. This is perfectly normal in film, it's called giving the actor “business” to do, during the scene. Chayefsky HATED this. “They are mumbling my precious dialogue! Chewing through it! Sucking it through a straw!” Sorry, Chayefsky buddy. It works for the picture. Chayefsky also felt the actors were too emotional with his dialogue. Right. See, they call that acting.

UNPAUSE

Which brings us back to the first meeting of Emily and Jessup at the party. They are eating during this important scene! I can just picture Chayefsky seeing this, and running to the studio brass to tattle and get Ken Russell fired (as he got Arthur Penn of Bonnie and Clyde fame fired before Ken Russell came on board).

Emily and Jessup are, true to Chayefsky form, extremely intelligent, driven people and hearing them discuss topics such as anthropology and schizophrenia is quite interesting. It's just that what is to come, film being a visual medium, will eclipse just about any dialogue, no matter how good, from our mind thingys.

The two give up on the science talk and go straight to banging on her couch. After, she asks what he was thinking about. His answer is priceless. “God. Jesus. Crucifixions.”

She smiles.

Bwahahaha! Oh Paddy Chayefsky, you sure know women.

He admits he used to have religious visions. She listens to him from the sweaty couch whilst he sits naked on the floor, and starts going on about his father's horrible death of cancer and his loss of faith. And he admits to her that he's a nut. Her response is to call him a fascinating bastard. I think Lucas may have taken notes for Padme and Anakin.

So naturally, they get married immediately.

But none of that matters because Jessup gets back in the sensory deprivation tank and has his first vision. A nightmare of his dying father and lost faith in christianity. It's pretty great, filled with foreboding hospital rooms, his father's face being covered in a burning Shroud of Turin, everything covered by horrible blood red clouds and then THIS FUCKING THING SHOWS UP AND ITS ALIVE AND WRIGGLING

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

excuse me...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The many-eyed goat is slaughtered over a gold bible and suddenly Jessups screwing Emily again and we enter a blood vessel looking thing and the vision ends and he never mentions this again. Oh. Okay,

Emily continues on about what a nut Jessup is as they make marriage plans. Her monologue:

“You're an unmitigated madman. You don't have to tell me how weird you are. I know how weird you are. I'm the girl in your bed the past two months. Even sex is a mystical experience for you. You carry on like a flagellant... Which can be very nice, but I sometimes wonder if it's me that's being made love to. I feel like I'm being harpooned by some raging monk in the act of receiving God. (Emphasis mine)

"And you are a Faust-freak Eddie! You'd sell your soul to find the great truth. Well, human life doesn't have great truths. We're born in doubt. We spend our lives persuading ourselves we're alive. And one way we do that is we love each other, like I love you. I can't imagine living without you. So let's get married, and if it turns out to be a disaster, it'll be a disaster.”

It's a disaster.

As in, by the next scene. It starts off happy enough looking, they have kids and people are smiling. And hey, wow it's seven years later! But, well, see, whoops, they are getting a divorce. Well, not they. See, he is divorcing her because he considers the seven years with her a complete waste.

She still loves him, desperately. He doesn't give a shit about her or the kids. He tells Bob Balaban this, straight up. And then starts bugging him about deprivation tanks and Hinchi Indians in South America who have sacred mushrooms that can really fuck you up.

It's at this point you would like for Jessup to be hit by a Mack truck. But the movie continues on. By the way, this is one of the kids he doesn't give a crap about:

That's right. Drew Barrymore's first role is a kid that William Hurt doesn't give a shit about. Something that William Hurt would make a career out of with narcoleptic performances in Lost in Space and Syfy's Dune. So, Emily takes the kids to Africa for her anthropology work while Jessup goes to South America to go deeper into his own creepy mind.

The Hinchi Indians agree to allow him to participate in the drug ritual. They enter their holy cave.

This shot is beautiful. At this point the film becomes increasingly gorgeous. Ken Russell has started to go into overdrive, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle. Your. Seatbelts.

The Indians grab Jessup's hand and cut him, freaking him out. They pour his blood into the drug mixture. They begin to drink. Then he takes a sip. The intensity of the film here has quadrupled. The vision begins, fireworks going off all around him. He sees cave paintings of humans and komodo dragons and this:

The proper life he left behind with Emily. He's convulsing, sweating. The Indians are all around, masked. Snakes. He's laughing in pain. Energy spills from the void. A snake under the parasol strikes and begins to strangle him. He and Emily march toward a nuclear explosion as energy pours from the cut on his hand, becoming a lizard. From within a sandstorm, Emily watches him, naked. Jessup looks at her, entranced, as the soothing sands cover them both, slowly.

It's a beautiful sequence. A perfect film sequence. I can't overstate how strong the vision sequences are from this point forward. Great visual effects work and the madman mind of Ken Russell create something unforgettable, with it's own pace, independent from the rest of the film.

Jessup awakens with a komodo dragon laying before him, ripped to pieces. The Indians and the others all claim he killed it in rage. Jessup remembers nothing, takes samples of the drug to reproduce it, and goes back home.

Back home, Jessup keeps doing as much of the drug as he can and having Bob Balaban record results. They can't up the dosage any more so Jessup hops back in to the self deprivation tank to create a more extreme experience.

In his next session, Jessup states he is having a vision of early man, hunting a deer and killing it. Suddenly he states he is one of them, killing the deer. He begins to grunt like an animal. The two pull him out. He's incredibly pale, blood seeping out of his mouth. He can't speak, and has difficulty breathing. He insists they do an X-ray. It shows that there is a vocalizing lump in the front part of his throat. Jessup claims that his body had begun to revert to a simian state. The medical doctor agrees, stating the throat X-rays looks like that of a gorilla.

Luckily his throat returns to normal. So Jessup finishes up his day by having over a student of his and sleeping with her.

Our hero, people!

At this point we hardly feel sorry for him as his body suddenly begins to twist and bulge in the middle of the night, shifting in and out of neanderthal shapes. It's a horrific sequence, disturbing as hell. You certainly didn't expect the film to shift into body horror.

Jessup feels normal after a while. but sees visions of lava explosions, the birthing of the Earth all around him. Not a good sign.

He goes to pick up Emily from the airport the next day. She asks how he is doing.

“Oh, fine.”

Yeah right.

Emily has been told what Jessup has been doing and is worried, which of course pisses off Jessup even more. The guy is obviously obsessed with reaching the truth and root of existence, much as Emily surmised earlier, and we see he has no fear of even losing his own soul, again true to her word. The only thing that allows us to give a shit about him at this point is that Emily cares for him and she's decent people, okay?

So back Jessup goes into the tank with his ayahuasca or whatever it is. Alone. The tank door opens from the inside.

The hand that pushes it open is covered in thick hair. He's devolved.

Ape-Jessup escapes the tank room and chases a janitor around the building. Again, this scene is fucking freaky as hell. We can't get a good look at this screaming animal that was Jessup.

The janitor gets a guard to help and chases after him into the boiler room, where we finally get a good look at him when he assaults the security guard and escapes.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ape-Jessup runs through the city at night, making his way to the zoo where he kills a antelope and eats it. The Ape-Jessup sequence goes on way too long, but is nonetheless unforgettable. The makeup is much more convincing than the above picture suggests, and whoever performed Ape-Jessup did an admirable job.

The cops find an unconscious Jessup in the zoo and bring him in. Emily picks him up and questions him. Jessup admits everything that he can remember. He also admits that he probably killed that security guard. And once again doesn't seem to give a shit. Prick. He calls it the most supremely satisfying time of his life.

Even Emily seems disgusted with him. But, she's also fascinated with what he's accomplished. As an anthropologist, his transformation fascinates her. And so, she agrees to help oversee his next session. Big mistake.

Before the big session Emily and Jessup romantically reconnect, and then into the climactic session we go!

Get your popcorn ready!

After a few hours in to the session, the video monitor shows Jessup begin to literally melt apart like goo, reverting to primordial ooze, the very beginning of existence. An attempt to open the isolation tank doors blasts everyone unconscious, as light and energy pour forth. Emily is the only one left. She sees Jessup's life energy pulse from within the tank.

Rain pours down around them. The pipes on the walls twist and turn like jelly. The ground is covered with a pool of swirling fog and energy. Emily advances toward the vortex of the tank.

In the emptiness of the beginning of everything, Emily seizes the energy before her and reconstitutes Jessup.

They take him home. While he sleeps, Emily rages over the fact that she loves such a insane bastard, and can't get over him. And, then, after Bob Balaban leaves, leaving Emily alone, Jessup wakes up.

He sweetly admits that the truth he learned was that there was no learnable truth, just unknowable horror, and all that's real is human experience. And he'll be a good boy from now on. Well too bad!

Because that horrible truth isn't done with him, and it's back to goo-Jessup! Emily tries to help him, grabbing him, but this in turn effects her, turning her into a shimmering lava form of herself. Both of them begin to self-destruct as Jessup, enraged, watching her in pain, struggles to retake his humanity, slamming himself into the wall, reforming himself through sheer will and physicality. He grabs her and brings her back, mirroring what she did for him during the final session. They embrace naked in the hallway. He finally admits, “I love you, Emily.”

Fade to credits.

Awww true love!

What can I say to sum up? Awesome 80's practical effects. Genius wacko go-for-it Ken Russell directing. Out of this world vision sequences. A awake and actually remarkable performance from William Hurt. An occasionally turgid but often fascinating script by the ever ornery Paddy Chayefsky. Whats not to like?

Well, the ending is a little rushed. The ape sequence goes on for a little too long and takes up perhaps too much of the films overall running time. The central love story is, well... a little hard to swallow, but hey, I guess there really is somebody out there for everyone. Even self-absorbed, deadbeat, cheating, sensory deprivation loving, ayahuasca dropping, Harvard teachers with a messiah complex!

And on that note, aliens from A.I. Artifical Intelligence, have a good day, and don't leave poor Teddy alone with no one to keep him company!

Sayonara!

#altered states #ken russell #movies #review #funny?

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argylemnwrites · 5 years

Text

Traditions

Pairing: Seth Levine x MC (Jessica Parker)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries (about one year after Book 3)

Word Count: ~1100

Rating: PG-13 (some adult language)

Summary: Seth gets to experience “holiday” Jessica when Hanukkah rolls around.

Author’s Note: Happy Hanukkah to all those who celebrate! Thought I’d write a little fic about my favorite Jewish character in Choices in honor of the first night of Hanukkah. This piece is for Day 22 of both the Choices December Challenge (Hanukkah) and 41 Days of Cheer (Holiday).

“Here, taste these,” Jessica said, shoving a plate of latkes across the kitchen island.

Seth glanced up from the script he was flipping through. Ethan Blake had been sending him a lot of scripts lately, but honestly, none of them had resonated with Seth. He knew he should have capitalized on his increased name recognition after Ninradell, but he just wasn’t sure what he’d wanted to focus on for his career. Should he be trying for more big-franchise blockbuster type roles, even though that wasn’t really his passion? Should he be looking at the comedic parts, even though those tended to be more supporting roles? Should he stick to movies, or would television be a better fit? Or should he return to his roots, focusing on his standup now that more people might be interested in him?

Unsure of what he truly wanted, he’d only taken a couple of recurring guest spots in some TV shows and a highly billed supporting role in an action comedy over the past year. Instead of acting, he’d spent more time focused on his writing, much to Ethan’s chagrin. Oh well, that had meant that he’d been able to travel with Jessica when she’d been filming on location in Australia, which had been much nicer than when they were both frantically busy throughout their entire engagement, barely seeing each other when they lived in the same city. Plus, he’d gotten to host SNL, so as far as he was concerned, that alone made the year since the release of Ninradell a professional success.

However, if Jessica kept feeding him fried food, his career options might be a moot point, as he was going to put on so much weight and would only get hired as the fat funny friend. Growing up, his mom had only made special foods for the first night of Hanakkuh, the rest of the nights often consisting of lighting the menorah and him and Caleb quickly opening their gifts between homework and clubs and sports. But Jessica had been frying and baking for five nights straight at this point, and that was in addition to the dozens of Christmas cookies she’d been baking and stocking the freezer with over the past few weeks. If he only gained 10 pounds over December, it would be a miracle.

Sighing, he grabbed the fork off the plate and started in on yet another batch of latkes. They were tasty - Jessica’s cooking always was - but he was getting a little tired of having to serve as her Jewish food critic. He felt like an ass for even having thoughts like that, but after four nights of latkes and sufganiyot and fritters and donuts, Seth just wanted a damn salad. But he couldn’t complain about his wife’s cooking, particularly when it was all for his holiday, so he dug in dutifully.

After a couple of bites, he looked over at Jessica, standing behind the stove top, staring at him expectantly.

“They’re good, Iowa,” he said between bites.

“Are they better than yesterday’s? I’m trying to get them crispier.”

“They were both good. They’ve all been good.”

Jessica sighed heavily at that. Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

“Jessica, I don’t know what to tell you. You know you’re a great cook. Literally everything you’ve made for Hanukkah has been amazing.”

“But these are the foods you grew up with, and I’ve never made them before.”

“And I’m telling you, you did an awesome job. What else do you want me to say?”

“I just want to be sure I’m replicating your childhood Hanukkahs.”

“Jessica, I love you, but that is an insane goal.”

She scowled at him, so he pressed on, trying to explain himself before things devolved into a fight.

“First, I was raised in a very liberal Reform home. My parents essentially transformed Hanukkah into Jewish Christmas, so you could serve me eggnog and some of those cookies you’ve been baking and it would feel normal to me. Second, unless you want to fly my brother out so he and I can get in a fight before he leaves for a shift at Jungle Jims and you drive me to the Y for swim class, you won’t be able to truly capture the essence of my childhood Decembers. Third, and most importantly, the day I compare any aspect of you to my mother is the day you should file for divorce. So please, Jessica, do not make me compare your latkes to my mother’s.”

Jessica bit her lip and smiled at that, pausing for a few moments before she spoke up.

“I know how important holiday traditions are, and I just… I just want our kids to look back on my holiday meals with fond memories.”

Ah, well that explained a lot. They had been talking about trying to get pregnant starting sometime in the new year. And while the thought both simultaneously excited and scared the shit out of Seth, Jessica was clearly viewing this holiday season as a trial run for the future. A future where she obviously envisioned herself as some Hallmark movie version of a mother.

“Jessica, they will love your holiday meals because you’ll be the one making them. You could serve them frozen pizza and they would love it. Whatever you want to serve, that will be our tradition, okay? Or if you want me to handle the Jewish crap, that’s fair too. We’ll figure it out year by year, alright?”

“No way are you allowed to cook any holiday meals, Jewish or otherwise.”

“I’m a decent cook!” Seth retorted, but Jessica just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Fine, I’m an adequate cook,” he amended.

“The Valentine’s dinner debacle of 2018 says otherwise.”

“The steaks were just a little overly charred.”

“And the rolls were not cooked through and the vegetables were beyond rubbery and you forgot about dessert in the oven so the sprinklers went off-”

“Alright, alright, I concede that meal did not turn out well. Are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head as she flipped the rest of the latkes onto another plate, walked around the island, and joined Seth on the stool next to his. And while he knew that it was just in Jessica’s nature to go a little nuts about this sort of thing, that she would always be the type to go all out for the holidays, well sitting here, enjoying a home-cooked meal with her was more than festive enough for him. Whatever the future held for them and their family, spending it together would always matter more than what was on the menu.

Tags: @mfackenthal @octobereighth @choicesbyjade @jlpplays1-41daysofcheerchallenge @choicesdecemberchallenge

#seth levine #seth x mc #choicesdecemberchallenge #41daysofcheer #rcd fanfiction #rcd #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play

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kisuminight · 5 years

Text

Rainfire

Sometimes you remember something you watched when you were a kid and then you go look it up. And then you get ideas.

This story addresses the idea that never gets covered in the Spider Riders anime that the Inner World might (and probably does) have very different diseases. And Hunter, being Earthen, has no immunity to them.

Third Person POV, centered on Igneous. Adds a couple book elements and headcannons. Notes at the end.

~~~

“Oh, and Igneous? Sparkle won’t be able to make it to your afternoon training session today. Rainfire.” The way the Prince waved away gathering concerns with a smile and half-lidded eyes was all-too indicative of his own. Even if this method of informing the other Spider Riders was mostly an excuse to dodge his paperwork again.

Still, “It’s not exactly bad news.” Everyone knew that if you didn’t catch Rainfire young, it got much worse the older you were. In fact, “The Princess is almost a little overdue, isn’t she? How’s Hotarla doing?” His manacle felt warm on his wrist; a dry, soothing heat over his pulse point, Flame’s warm regard. They hadn’t been chosen yet when Igneous himself fell ill, but they’d already been friends; Flame had been nearly as worried as Slate, more so, even.

“Hotarla’s dealing better than Uncle Hop.” The protective fury and duty-born anger faded from that name long ago. It helped that Grasshop had always been hard to hate, even immediately after he’d defected. “Part of it is how Rainfire interacts with Insectors. Apparently, it’s inverted for them.”

Oh. Igneous thought about what it might mean if Rainfire struck the young hardest, and even Flame’s reassurance couldn’t ease the sudden chill. The Princess suddenly seemed much to young. “Aqune and Potia are in Insector territory at the moment; they would come if we called.

Most Insectors trusted the pair more than the other fourteen. Understandable, given the generations-long war, ut it still rankled. Spider Riders were supposed to be heroes, after all.

“No, it’s fine. Textbook Rainfire, right down to the crystal formation. I’m just glad she didn’t come down before…” Mantid. The name still felt cold on everybody’s tongues. Irregular, the way nobody knew how to say it now, and tangled up in unprocessable emotions.

“I’ll see if I can reschedule with Corona and Hunter. If they’re determined to be battle partners, they’ll need to learn teamwork with Shadow and Venus instead of just as part of their own pair.” Not that Hunter and Shadow did particularly well off the battlefield, given the arguing (even if it had lost that edge of cruelty as time wore on). Today had been surprisingly quiet.

“Hey! I heard our names mentioned?” Corona, greeting them with her left hand leading and manacle gem shining in a subtle indicator of Venus’ presence to the observant.

“Training session, this afternoon. Hunter and Shadow, too. Do you know where they are?” Probably not in the castle.

“He and Princess Sparkle were supposed to be doing something this morning.” That didn’t sound particularly likely.

But Corona’s manacle flashed in the shadow of her wrist, and Venus projected to the group, “He pestered Shadow into helping him wake up. He was very serious about helping Sparkle and Hotarla.”

But, “The Princess is down with Rainfire. She couldn’t have met Hunter this morning,” Igneous protested.

“He wouldn’t have slept through breakfast, and he wouldn’t have missed breakfast if he was awake.” The Prince’s smile turned wry and more than a little amused. “Well, I’m sure you’ll solve this mystery; I’ve got to go check on Sparkle.” Amazing how he could make Sparkle sound like Grasshop, who’s going to panic and maybe accidentally set the room on fire.

Corona shook her head, eyes pensive and deep after they waved the Prince off. “Now I’m worried. Neither of us have heard from Shadow, either.”

Igneous curled his fingers across his manacle, and offered a quick prayer to the Oracle fro patience. “Alright. We should use their room as a starting point, just for organizational purposes.” Flame’s opinions weighted on him, unsaid as they were, and Igneous felt the smile touch his lips under his spider’s approval.

So, Hunter and Shadow’s room: located a couple floors up and three hallways over. Rather than climb six flights of stairs (and also because they were, perhaps a little, worried), “Flame, Spider Out!” The jump to get him on Flame’s back slipped away from his memories, more habit than conscious act. Igneous held out a hand to Corona, catching her as she, too, leaped aboard.

Flame waited patient as a stone, for both riders to settle in their stances before he leaped, balcony to balcony in the clear, open space King Arachna III deliberately designed into the architecture, leaving more room and load-bearing capacity for the sake of the Arachnian Kingdom’s Battle Spider allies.

Dismounting at the floor they wanted, Igneous took a minute to lean into Flame in a stoic, silent geture of trust and gratitude. “Flame, Spider In.”

“Thank you, Flame,” Corona added, her manacle glowing in a manner that suggested Venus privately asking her Rider to rely on her, next time.

At a brisk walk, Igneous and Corona set out. Three hallways over put them near the outer wall, all the doors leading into large-windowed rooms. Hunter and Shadow’s was near the end of the hall, if not quite the corner room. Next to Magma and Brutus’ if Igneous remembered correctly, though that pair had taken off to check on the harbours, now that peace seemed to be settling over the land with the war declared at an end and the embargo on the Insectors lifted.

Unsurprisingly, the door was closed. Corona knocked lightly. “Hunter, Shadow? Are you two in there?” Not entirely expecting a response, she tried the doorknob. Locked.

“Corona?” Shadow’s voice through the wood, but thin and thread with something Igneous couldn’t quite place. “Can you come in? Please?”

Wrong. Utterly wrong, in the way that would’ve sent Igneous into a panic if they’d still been fighting, under constant threat of something that could completely corrupt the mind (Mantid had never used a mask on more than Aqune and Portia, thank the Oracle). Sent him into a panic anyway because even for Corona and Venus, Shadow never used that word, never uttered it in a way more begging than confident.

Lips pursed, Igneous motioned Corona out of the way. He didn’t ask about the lock; as good a companion as a Battle Spider could be, they mostly got through locked doors by smashing them down. Besides, Shadow hadn’t mentioned it, meaning he had enough faith that they could get around it anyway. Fortunately, Igneous trained his skill with locks enough to subvert all the ones in the Palace.

Maybe Igneous would bother the Prince less about paperwork if he’d at least fill out the forms to increase his own security.

Kneeling, he examined the lock. A standard type three, nothing too special. Corona brushed a hand across Igneous’ shoulder as he retrieved his lock picks from his boot. “We’ll go around by the window.” Slipping into an unused room, he heard her call Venus even as he managed to get the first pin to click.

Second.

Fourth.

Sixth, and Igneous nearly threw the door open in his haste. Oracle, he was worried enough to spend the rest of the day lecturing the pair, never mind afternoon training with Corona and Hunter—

Hunter.

So admittedly a lot of the angriest thoughts had focused on Hunter. They hadn’t heard his voice and he’d just remembered the windows in this room couldn’t fit a fully grown Battle Spider, as evidenced by the way Corona had to vault into the room, leaving Venus hovering outside—some of the really dark ones accused Hunter of leaving Shadow in a room he couldn’t easily exit, the sort of childish disregard some of their arguments inevitable devolved to. But it hadn’t prepared him for this.

Hunter lay in bed, face flushed nearly as red as his hair and brow sweaty. He’d kicked the blanket off so they could see the golden droplets of crystal that had formed dancing patterns across his skin, deceptively beautiful. The most dangerous were an almost-collar spiking up about his throat and a heavy scale-like pattern putting far too much pressure on his ankle for safety’s sake.

“I thought we could deal with it. It’s just Rainfire, but then I realized something was wrong and I couldn’t call for help or get out.” Too quiet. Quiet and exhausted and not like Shadow at all. Igneous didn’t know what to do, how he could make this better. You couldn’t fight disease with a lance.

“It can’t be Rainfire. He’s too old for Rainfire.” Intellectually, Igneous knew it did happen. Those were usually the fatal cases. “Why didn’t he get it until this late?”

“Earthen,” Corona breathed like a revelation and a doom curse in one. “What if they don’t have Rainfire? What if they don’t have anything we have?” Meaning Hunter might not have any vaccinations, not even for the truly deadly diseases like Corpse Script or Weblung.

It was hard to even wrap his head around it. Corpse Script? Sure, fine, that one only had a case or two per year. But Rainfire? How could anywhere not have Rainfire? The crystal sickness was practically inevitable.

“What are you talking about? It’s Rainfire, I can’t think of anything more harmless.” Well, at least Shadow was starting to sound like himself again, if with more of an edge than usual.

“The crystal sickness is different for humans,” Venus scolded gently. “Do you have anything to keep the crystal projections from blocking his airways?”

“They’re not too tough in spikes like that; I can break them off without harm.” Thrown full-on into her task, Corona pulled out a clean cloth probably meant for cleaning weapons. She wrapped it around the points of the not-collar, steadily pulling away to try and remove the crystal from Hunter’s skin.

With tired determination, Igneous let Flame anchor him in their hearthfire as he dove into the still-gowing web of the current generation of Spider Riders. There was Brade-and-Dagger, a hollow gaping hole, Lumen-and-Ebony whirling gears-inside-gears, the currently-dim sun of Sparkle-and-Hotarla, Corona-and-Venus’ deep ocean of conviction, Magma-and-Brutus’ mountain-strong determination far away, and father still the mirror-and-ice palace of, “Aqune.”

Call initiated, he brought his manacle closer to his face and tried to ignore how Hunter-and-Shadow’s riotous jungle of a presence had felt more faded and threadbare than the presence of Brade-and-Dagger who were both gh—alternately present by the grace and thoughtfulness of the Oracle.

“Igneous,” Aqune responded promptly. “Is there something wrong at the castle? Any Spider Rider issues?” Igneous liked Aqune despite their history; always professional, he couldn’t help but liken her to the training master he and Slate had shared when they first joined the Arachnian Knights. Portia, too, reminded him of Flame, though she had less of a temper.

“Not quite. How much to do know about Rainfire in humans? We’ve got a fairly serious case.” One advantage of the manacle connection—enemies couldn’t listen in, or even see the picture of light and movement that formed on the manacle’s surface. Not that Buguese was an enemy, exactly, but his entire demeanor, while honorable, left him harder to trust than Grasshop’s goofy sincerity and joy with the Princess or Portia and Aqune’s own acceptance of their actions under the mask.

“Not so much about humans, but I’m sure you’ve guessed that some of Mantid’s policies meant we’ve had serious before.” Right. Because the lack of the Oracle Sun meant more inhospitable weather and less food, on top of a lack of medicinal herbs and vaccines being a primarily human export. That sounded uncomfortably close to a breeding ground for epidemics and plagues.

Igneous leaned on Flame’s solid presence in his manacle. “No, I hadn’t guessed.” He felt an oncoming headache; at least Hunter and Shadow weren’t totally responsible for it, this time. “I—look, sorry, right now we need help with Hunter. But when you get back, I’ll help you corner the Prince for some talks on policy.” Much, much needed talks on policy.

Wait. The Prince had said something before, something about—“Grasshop. Is he going to come down with something, too?” Because that would be a great omen for their budding peace.

“No. He’s had Rainfire before, and he’s Big Four.” Because Mantid wouldn’t want to lose one of his top four generals to something preventable, right. “So, first rule of Rainfire: keep the airways clear.”

“Corona’s on that already.”

“Okay. Next, keep them hydrated. Try water flavored with fruit, thin soup, or broth. Rainfire sucks the body dry.” Listening to Aqune’s voice list all of the things he could do, ways he could help, eased something inside him, the feral, snarling thing that lived in the deepest corner of his mind and so rarely rose to something louder than a hum—and only when helpless, like that first time facing Stags with Corona and nearly watching both she and Venus die, or when Insector Commander Scarab had laid hands on both the Prince and the Princess.

“And lastly, you can crack the crystal with hammer and chisel if necessary, but always hit from the side, and never straight down, and only with a denser cloth in place from the other side to protect from possible shrapnel.”

“Thank you, Aqune. I think we’ll be able to handle it from here.” He let a wry smile creep onto his face, chasing away what he knew to be a grim, worried frown. “Why is Hunter always the troublesome one?” More background than proper attention, Igneous heard Shadow huff out an almost-laugh.

“Talent,” Aqune returned, equally dry. “We’ll be back by tomorrow, in any case. Good luck. The Oracle is with you, that a chosen bond not be cut so soon.”

“Safe travels.” The connection cut, and Igneous hopped that we only meant Aqune and Portia. Even if—when Hunter got better, Igneous didn’t trust that he wouldn’t be too frazzled not to act snippy at Buguese.

“Do we really get another case of divine intervention?” Skeptic, but hopeful, and Igneous turned with Shadow to look at Corona.

“Um, maybe?” Corona paused to press a hand to her heart, closing her eyes. “Not a big one, like with the Oracle Keys, but it feels like the standard blessing that you receive when a manacle chooses you.”

“There’s a blessing?” Shadow sounded lost and a little embarrassed.

“Yes? There are plenty of Spider-Human pairings, but the manacles are the Oracle’s blessing to the ones she favors. They’re why we can transforms, and they help speed up our healing after and during battle, just a little.” She smiled and shook her head, pinning them both with her gaze. “I forget you and Hunter don’t necessarily know these things.”

“I suppose that means you and Hunter will be sitting history lessons with the Princess and Hotarla from now on.” Igneous sighed, forcing his body to relax. They would be able to attend those lessons. They would.

“I’ll go fetch the things Aqune recommended. Will you and Flame sit with them?” Igneous bit down his protest. If he felt useless in this situation, how much more so did Corona feel?

“Go ahead.” Igneous scanned the room, looking for a chair he could move to Hunter’s bedside. He couldn’t call Flame out in such a small space; the room barely fit three humans and a Battle Spider as it was. Yet, the presence of his partner eased some of the longing. “Bring some ice if they have any in the kitchens.”

Corona stepped out the window to Venus, and together they disappeared downwards. Climbing down the side of the building always sped up movements more than taking the stairs and hallways inside—normally Igneous didn’t allow such a thing, but this was something of a minor emergency.

“Don’t worry so much,” Igneous told Shadow as he scooted the chair across the room and tried not to make it more reassurance for himself. “He’s strong. Do you honestly think he can’t deal with a little Rainfire?”

“Venus said they’re different, though.”

“A lot of things are, it seems.” Igneous reflected on the tidbits the Prince had dropped, Aqune’s frank admission of things that shouldn’t have been a surprise if he’d bothered to think, and Shadow’s own startlement. “And while the lack of knowledge about them is understandable, it is not acceptable. Tell me how Battle Spiders view Rainfire.”

There was a stilted feel to Shadow’s legs as he thought; Igneous may not be able to read Shadow’s every thought in the microcosm of body language as Hunter would eventually and had previously shown signs of, but he thought the Spider might’ve taken too much chastisement out of a simple request for more knowledge.

“Shadow, I’m angrier with myself more than anyone else. I am an Arachnian Knight and a Spider Rider. Not knowing such crucial details about our greatest allies is an inexcusable failing on my part, not yours.” No, for all that Shadow was older than Venus, he seemed much less experienced with humans than his battle partner.

Tense mandibles relaxed. “…Rainfire isn’t rare, but it’s not common, either. I’ve never heard of any Battle Spider dying from it, but the legends say that only the strongest even get it. Proof from the Oracle that they are the strongest.” Hesitating, Shadow’s voice seemed to linger over his next thought. “I had it, once.”

Ah. “It’s not your fault Hunter is sick. He most likely got it from the Princess.” Or the Princess had gotten it from him. They’d both been out in that nasty storm last week; this shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all. “Rainfire is a little different with humans. You can only catch it once, and it tends to be milder the younger you are. For all our fussing, Hunter is still thirteen and otherwise healthy. It’s safest for him to catch it now.”

Igneous just wished that they’d been prepared for it.

“We’re back,” Venus announced as she used her webbing to help Corona maneuver—had they stolen the entire pot of broth from the kitchen? “It’s vegetable, carrot, sunpeas, and vinenut.”

“I hope you left some for the Princess.” Not much of a joke, but not as bleak as he’d thought it would come out. “Did you bring any dishware, too?”

“Right here. And the hammer and chisel.” Corona lifted a package of three half-bowls and some towels with suspicious lumps, bound up with spider silk. “I’ve got some bread, too. Can you believe it’s past lunch already?” Was it? He hadn’t been monitoring the time, just the heavy oppression of Shadow’s mood and the liquid flow-freeze of Rainfire’s signature crystal.

Rising, Igneous left the chair to Corona. Taking a towel from the pack of them after a short fight with Venus’ webbing, he unwrapped the plain stone mason’s wooden-hafted hammer and iron chisel. Carefully, he eased the edge of the towel underneath the edge of the crystal formation around Hunter’s left ankle; there was still a little space to wiggle the whole thing into position, but not much. Not enough.

They needed to get this off, now.

Ankles were important parts of footwork, and without good footwork, a Spider Rider was crippled. So, mindful of Aqune’s warnings, Igneous placed the chisel at a forty-five-degree angle. The fell of cool, lifeless metal felt very different from the sunlight-and-hope of his lance. Worried, Igneous switched hands. Flame felt Igneous’ fussing and stirred in the manacle; the outpouring of gentle warmth increased, suffusing his skin, and it felt better. Not right, just better.

Picking up the hammer in his other hand, he touched the head to the chisel. Then he pulled back slightly and tried to swing as gently as he could. Metal met metal, but the chisel only chimed softly off the crystal despite the vibration ringing up his arms. Too gentle.

Igneous swung a second time, worrying that it was too hard even as a crack in the crystal opened up with a sound like an Insector machine’s cannon. Hands almost numb, he set down hammer and chisel to pry at the crack with his fingers until he could pull away whole chunks. Held up to the light, they sparkled; beautiful and potentially deadly.

Would Hunter know the tradition of keeping a piece to mark your survival? Probably not. And the Earthen boy had learned to fit in well enough that learning what he knew, and what he was clueless about could no longer be divined with a simple look at his face.

Suddenly more exhausted than he’d ever been before, Igneous accepted a miniature loaf of bread and a half bowl of the broth from Corona. He had to set it on his knees to keep his trembling hands from spilling it all over the floor. Even dipping the bread into the broth didn’t provoke his appetite, and the bite he took anyway tasted like ash on his tongue.

“So now all we have is monitoring duty.” Hurry up and wait. It grated on his need for solutions now just as much as it had when his and Slate’s training master had first thrown the phrase in his face.

“Shadow, Venus, and I can stay, if you want to go train.” Corona’s offer was genuine and well-meant, as always, but Igneous didn’t need the sharp temperature flare from his manacle to know she’d annoyed them both.

“We’ll stay.” Curt, just a little, and disappointed. But he’d curled back the jagged edge of his temper to keep from snapping at her.

“Okay,” Corona accepted, and that was that.

The light from the Oracle Sun shifted the sky’s hues as the day wore on. Hunter continued to sleep (typical, but better than awake and hallucinating), but his fever fluctuated up and down. Despite proving he had the capability to enter and leave manacle space at will, Shadow stayed out. Venus, too, perched outside the window like a friendly, soothing guardian. Corona and Igneous switched places fairly often, and occasionally paced when the tension spiraled too high. Twice more, the hammer and chisel were necessary.

Only when the oracle sun had gone deep purple and the sky a velvety black, fading to green not dissimilar form Brutus’ coloring around the city and the distant horizon-lights made by watch lanterns did something finally change.

Igneous had lit the candles and was contemplating finding a firepot to re-heat the broth and provide additional warmth when Hunter stirred. A low moan started it, followed by a shiver that turned into a full-body shudder as he struggled awake.

“Wh—Corona? Igneous?” Hunter blinked hazy green eyes at them, slowly resolving towards clarity. “Sparkle! Shadow, why didn’t you wake me—”

“He tried.” Igneous leaned against the wall and allowed his shoulders to drift downwards into something less likely to be considered confrontational.

“Huh?” His gaze drifted to the window, past Venus’ silhouette. “That’s not morning, is it? Why’s it so late?”

“Both you and Princess Sparkle caught Rainfire. You’ve been sick all day.” Corona reached out, squeezing one of his hands in her own. “We’ve been really worried. Here, let me help you.”

“Sick? Why am I covered in this stuff?” With more active participation, the crystal began crumbling away in larger sections. “Is this like an Inner World cold or something?”

“No. You only get Rainfire once in your life.” Colds were the bane of every Arachnian Knight and Spider Rider—or just anyone who wanted to do anything productive. It was hard to do anything with a stuffed up nose and only able to get three words out between coughs and sneezes.

“So like chicken pox then?” Presumably. Hunter would know Earthen diseases better than anyone else. “Can’t you get vaccinated for it? Ah, vaccines—”

“We have them. And you’re getting them. But Rainfire has always been the one big exception.” Igneous sighed, straightening up to roll his shoulders. “You should get some more sleep, hunter. Tomorrow is a free day for you, Shadow, the Princess, and Hotarla. You can reschedule your training for a later date.”

With a short, cordial nod, Igneous stepped out of the room. He closed the door behind him and leaned on the frame, bringing his left wrist up to rest the manacle on his forehead.

“What was that about?” He heard Hunter hiss, despite the closed door. “I thought we were getting along better than that!”

“Igneous always acts like that after you’ve really worried him, is all. It’s second stage after the fussing.” Corona sounded a breath away from giggling. “You should’ve seen him after my first official mission as a Spider Rider. Right, Venus?”

“Even that wasn’t as pad as this, today. He picked the lock, you know.”

“Igneous can pick locks?”

“Yes? I mean, he doesn’t normally carry them because they don’t carry through the transformation.” More soft laughter. “Usually he just uses them to get into Prince Lumen’s study to wrap a blanket around him when he falls asleep doing paperwork.”

“Huh. And Sparkle and I, we’ll be okay? I’m kina dory we missed our training session.”

“You’ll be fine with just a bit more rest.”

“Of course Rainfire can’t keep you down. You’re as tenacious as kudzu.”

“Hey, bug! I didn’t explain that reference so you could use it on me!”

As Hunter and Shadow started arguing, Igneous let a little laugh of his own escape him. Everything would be all right. His team would be alright. At true ease for the first time since this morning, Igneous left to find his own bed. After all, he and Flame would need to be well-rested if them wanted to wrangle the Prince tomorrow instead of letting him slack off to hover around Sparkle, twice as attentive as he’d denied this morning.

~~~

Notes:

Rainfire is a little like chicken pox (childhood disease, can only get it once). It causes mild paralysis when you have it, which is why Hunter wakes up when the disease runs it’s course. Like with sleep paralysis, if you wake up/open your eyes while paralyzed, you may hallucinate something nightmarish preventing you from moving.

I always found it interesting that Igneous is the only Spider Rider who has military training. Yes, Corona and Venus have training, but Igneous is specifically also an Arachnian Knight. He’d be trained to be strong and patient, even though we can see (in the episode with the play), that he does have a bit of a temper/high strung personality. I think this training would also make him accept Aqune and Portia; they were only doing their duty until they weren’t, but that is mind control and not their fault.

In the books, the Spiders were telepathic. I’m incorporating this a little bit, but less outright telepathy and more Igneous and Flame don’t talk because they know each other so well that they don’t need to talk.

All the manacle stuff is head cannon. This includes the idea that when Spiders speak from inside the manacle, they can pick and choose whether it’s just their Rider who hears them, or everyone else, too (based on a bit of information that Ebony is supposed to be surprisingly chatty with Lumen, and yet we only ever hear him speak 2-3 times at all).

I also wanted to explore how the manacles could “call” each other, and I used that to do more of the Spider Riders have a profound bond with their spiders bit. This is also where the “only another Spider Rider can hear this call,” because they didn’t really seem to be afraid of using it, even when there might be (and rightly should have been, given that they were at war) enemies/spies around.

The bit about Shadow being older than Venus but less experienced with people is because he seems experienced with the Inner World (certainly more so than Hunter), but he’s been off fighting Insectors, and probably didn’t hang out around villages much.

I wish we’d seen more Spiders than the ones who had Riders. Otherwise, how else would people have even known in the first place that a spider-human pair = Spider Rider way back in the beginning of history? So I headcannon that spider-human pairings aren’t rare, but Spider Riders are (only being eight) and that makes them special (preserving main cast importance). The bit about blessings/healing--it’s a shounen with a bunch of magical girl overtones. How else could they have survived some of the faintly ridiculous things that happened?

#my writing #fanfiction #spider riders #spider riders fanfiction #igneous #flame #hunter steele #shadow #corona #venus #lumen

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withastolenlantern · 5 years

Text

The detective was taken aback at the cavernous space they entered. A central corridor led from the door straight through to the far side of the fab, with various machines whirring and thumping to either side of her off into the horizon. She noticed that the corridor and spaces between the machines were lined in multi-colored LED stripes pulsing in time, and overhead she saw several heavy drones flitting about hauling various pieces and parts. The cacophony of production was overwhelming, almost symphonic in its rhythm, as if an unseen conductor was directing a post-modern orchestra in an oddly tempoed concerto. “Fuck me,” she gasped breathlessly.

“Yeah, it sure is a thing,” Santomas replied with a smile that quickly devolved into a look of concern. “Problem is, none of this stuff is supposed to be, uh… on.”

She followed Santomas down the central alleyway, between rows of heavy equipment. “How often do you visit one?” she asked, almost yelling above the din.

“Me? Not frequently. We have local guys in most regions that handle all the preventative maintenance. Not that there’s really a lot; most of it can be resolved remotely, especially process-related stuff. We have some telepresence drones too, for more manual tasks.” He gestured to the far side of the floor, where threel skeletal machines were lined against the wall in some kind of charging apparatus. “The programming is sufficient to get them roughly in place, and then the fine manipulators have a haptic interface for more delicate tasks.”

Chatham was somewhat familiar with these; she’d once had an ordnance disposal unit called in to investigate potential IEDs in southern Kathiawar. But the drone they’d used was small and waddled almost like a turtle on awkward legs, and had a singular arm and crude manipulator with a gripping claw and basic cutters. The units Santomas was pointing out were nearly the size of a small man, with six segmented wheels at the base, a hydraulic “torso” and individual articulated digits at the end of two long interface arms. They looked imposing, even deactivated in their charging creche, all angular steel and plastic, like the villain from a late-century slasher B-movie.

They continued on into what appeared to be the center of the cavernous fab, where a tower of sorts rose ten or so meters above the main production floor. She followed Santomas up a flight of rickety stairs around the perimeter and into some kind of control room. The door shut behind them, and the roar of the machinery was dimmed to a low yet persistent hum.

Santomas sat on a formed plastic bench before an enormous control console, not dissimilar from the one in his office in Wales. “This is the main control center,” the engineer explained as he powered on the terminal and the various holos flickered to life. “The various sub-systems are routed to the main process PLCs here, and then up to the comms array on the roof. I can supervise the entire production queue from this terminal, execute scripts, manually command individual machines, et cetera. It’s really fascinating when you think about it, how the automation protocols have advanced in the last thirty years...”

“While the facility tour has been highly interesting,” Chatham interrupted, “I might remind you that we’re here to investigate a possible crime.”.

“Right, right, we’re getting to it.” He keyed several commands into the console, and a process flow diagram appeared on the holoscreen.

The detective wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but it didn’t appear to be chemical in nature. “Help me understand what I’m seeing here.”

“Well, for starters, clearly the status link is working.”

“I could see that the moment we walked in,” she countered.

“Right, but that’s the thing. The external command status for this entire fab is set to shutdown. It basically terminated all line operations and told all the machinery to power down. Nothing’s supposed to be running, which is why we were seeing the red flag back in my office. But somehow the production queue got restarted; I don’t know if it was done locally, from here, or somehow else, but the lines are obviously running. And, well,” Santomas scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face. “We never really planned for a conflict like this.”

“How so?”

“Just because I can control things from this terminal doesn’t mean we ever intended to. The status flag fed back to the office is strictly report-only. Once the line starts up it closes the contact on output relay which sends the status signal out. So there’s a conflict: the last external value was set for shutdown, which its reporting. But I don’t think anyone ever anticipated a scenario where the fab would still also be running production, so we’re getting both statuses. The system didn’t know what to report, so it just reported everything.”

Chatham closed in behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder, as she lowered her face in towards the holo. “I thought you said the batch files-”

“Recipes.”

“Right, the recipes, are only uploaded over your secure link,” she finished.

The engineer nodded in assent. “Correct.”

“Well can you determine who uploaded this particular recipe file?” Chatham asked.

“Should be able to. Hold on,” Santomas said, typing furiously at the terminal. The holo flashed as he cycled through the screens and windows. He frowned, flipping his glasses up onto his forehead as he narrowed his eyes at the projection. “Okay, now, that’s real weird.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense Mister Santomas,” the detective demanded.

“So, I can’t figure out who ran this recipe,” he said. Chatham’s eyebrows raised in concern, but he waved her off. “That’s not even the weirdest part.”

She cocked her head slightly in frustration, rolling her eyes as she motioned him on.

“I’m looking at the execution instructions for this recipe and it’s missing the authorization code.”

“English, please,” she pleaded. “We haven’t all day here.”

He pointed toward the holo. “You see here, at the top of this recipe file? This is the program header: it’s not really any different from your average code file, where the programmer will put a bunch of identifying information. Revision number, code author, notes, etc. Well, in the case of our recipe files, there’s also supposed to be an authorization code - when the recipe goes into execution, the first thing the PLCs are supposed to do is confirm the authorization code. We, by which I mean, The Consortium, add it to every recipe. It’s part of our regulatory review process, and it also prevents user recipes from running without our knowledge.”

“So you’re telling me that not only should this facility not be active, you can’t tell me who activated, and how?”

#yeah you're not that lucky I'm still doing this... whatever #the world ocean

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ryanmeft · 6 years

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The Favourite Movie Review

If you happen to suffer from Anglophilia, The Favourite may very well cure you of it. America’s obsession with everything British owes a lot to the fact that movies and TV have painted our overseas cousins as being upstanding, intelligent, and just a little above it all. If Brexit hasn’t killed off that impression for you, take a look at this movie: the court is petty, the most common language is insults, the royal helpers fight like bloodthirsty schoolgirls, and the Queen is mad. How delicious.

It’s the early 18th century, and there are a few issues surrounding the rule of Queen Anne (Olivia Colman); namely, that she’s battier than a thousand-year-old attic. Among her many lovable antics: telling off the servants for things she told them to do, being pushed around in a completely unnecessary wheelchair which she likes being rolled very fast in, falling on the floor and screaming, demanding royal courtesy be paid to an army of rabbits, deliberately making herself sick on sweets, and generally being so out to lunch she frequently forgets there’s a war on with France. In fairness to her, this is England, so remembering when there is and is not a war with France is a full-time job. My only serious regret about all of this is that, while having wheelchair races with herself, she at no point shouts “Vroom vroom”.

These days, we might have sympathy for such an unfortunate soul, but Queens then and now are not so much persons as objects of political desire. The Tory party, here identified only as the opposition, wants to end War With France Number 76b quickly, because the taxes needed for it are taking money out of the pockets of wealthy landowners and, as Tory leader Robert Harley (Nicholas Hoult) sneeringly informs us, putting it in the hands of those darned merchants; one is reminded of the airline shareholders who griped that the employees were getting paid before they did. Anne’s primary confidant is Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz, and yes, she’s his ancestor), the Duchess of Marlborough. She wants the war, in which her husband (Mark Gatiss) is a leader, to be funded and fully supported. Just as you think she is the one of the two with the more honorable intentions, the movie corrects you: her support for her husband has more to do with the benefits of being married to a war hero than with any real affection. She is, in fact, shtupping the queen, something left in absolutely no doubt. This is a movie far more frank about sexuality and especially lesbianism than even most indie films dare to be. In that regard, it is incredibly forward thinking; at one point Anne is quite explicit about tongues and her preferred use for them. In other regards the movie’s attitude toward sex is less progressive but no less frank, as it is frequently used to attain power.

This fine arrangement is threatened by the arrival of Sarah’s cousin Abigail (Emma Stone) who has fallen on hard times after her father, from what I could gather, burned down both their house and himself. She initially becomes trusted by the Queen entirely by accident, in fact through the only unadulterated show of good Samaritanism in the entire movie. She will soon learn that in this place, no good deed goes unpunished. She evolves, if you can call it that, until she fits right in with the nearly murderous intrigues of royal life. Sarah pushes: she threatens her life, has her beaten, and attempts to humiliate, ruin and tear her down. Eventually, Abigail will become the better fighter, even engineering a scenario that leaves Sarah rotting in a brothel while she moves to solidify her own position. Nor are Sarah and the Queen the only ones to be used or abused by her. The film goes as far as to subtly suggest she, unlike Sarah, is not even that into sex, as she pursues marriage to a randy nobleman (Joe Alwyn), then loses interest once she has him, and the royal benefits the marriage provides.

What to make of the ensuing battle of wills between the deteriorating Queen, her bickering fixers, and the Parliament? I’ll tell you what not to make of it: the idea that this movie has a feminist viewpoint. It seems that way initially, with both nominal and real power in the hands of a woman. One of the founding, most cherished myths of the movement, though, is that the world would be an inherently better place if women grasped the shorthairs of power. It’s impossible to say if that would be true. What I can say is that the screenplay, written twenty years ago by historian Deborah Davis and “freshened up” more recently by Tony McNamara, practically dies laughing at the idea. It will be tempting for those who want to see Sarah and Abigail in a certain light to say they are only responding to the viciousness of the world they live in, but they voluntarily go far, far beyond any schemes cooked up by the pompous, white-wigged men of the government. The simple truth an attentive viewer might notice early on is that it really, truly would have been possible for the two women to come to some agreement. The other simple truth is that neither wanted to; both wanted to win at the expense of the other. It is not that the men are spared---they are variously pompous, corrupt, callous, or incompetent. It is that power in film is usually shown as mostly corrupting or being corrupted by men, and here women are equally as eager to get in on the game. Sarah’s complicity in this is the most tragic, as it’s clear she really does care about the Queen; yes, at no point does she actually stop trying to manipulate her. No one is spared: even the scullery maids are needlessly cruel.

The main triangle that comprises the heart of the drama is infused with three of the most gripping performances you’ll see at the movies. The irony of Rachel Weisz having her big breakthrough as the nerdy, shy girlfriend of then-more famous Brendan Fraser in The Mummy is strong; she’s since gone on to be the more dominant actor, and it isn’t close. She has one of those mannerisms that can control a room; later, when her more subtle ways of squeezing the Queen have begun to falter in the face of Abigail’s tactics, she gets more forceful, and such is Weisz’s presence that we are shocked when it doesn’t work. Stone’s big hit role in Zombieland was more hard-bitten, but she too would need meatier roles to display what she can really do, and here gets her best to date. She starts out truly just wanting a second chance after going through a hellish youth and being dumped into another bad situation. Eventually, those who would push her to be horrible learn a lesson, as she can be far more vicious than they ever intended.

Somehow, Colman’s Anne is constantly on the verge of sheer, out-in-the-yard-barking-at-the-moon lunacy, yet never devolves to the level of parody, and maintaining her insanity while also not becoming a Jack Sparrow-esque joke must have been among the more demanding things asked of an actor. Most of the water cooler talk centers around the more widely recognized Stone and Weisz, but Colman needs to be both stark raving mad and entirely sympathetic or the movie falls apart; we need to believe this is a person two intelligent, driven, vivacious women would be willing to get in the mud for, even as they manipulate her to their own ends. This is one of the few cases where we can safely impose modern ethics on the past. Anne is mentally ill, and should have been cared for, but there was no chance of that ever happening.

The world her court inhabits has been recreated by director Yorgos Lanthimos, working for the first time since before his critically acclaimed Dogtooth with someone else’s script, as a place that lacks the sumptuousness with which English finery, English dress, English buildings and English everything else are usually treated in American cinema. That’s probably because Lanthimos is Greek, and whereas Britain to us is the ideal parent---upright and mature yet far enough way that we don’t need to call that often---to him it may be just another country in Europe. The halls of St. James’s Palace (My best guess; the film never says) are not particularly ornate or beautiful, or at least they are not portrayed that way. Robbie Ryan chooses to shoot many scenes in near darkness, with candlelight, and the result is that much of the palace appears gloomy, close and not especially grand or even inviting; there is one moment in which Sarah speaks through a door whose other side is hidden by a tapestry when we could well believe the house as a setting for a ghost story. Nor are the actresses spared the visual signs of moral decay. Though the costume department drapes them in every bit of finery you expect from pompous royals, both competing women are literally drug through the mud, and Anne shows little care for her personal hygiene. We are reminded that this was a dirty world in more ways than one, and whatever glamorous ideas we might have of the past are shot out from under us. Like the highly underrated Marie Antoinette, almost the entire movie takes place within the cloistered walls of the royal residence; I doubt most of those involved in the drama ever spare a look for an actual citizen of the crown.

Lanthimos’s last film, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, inspired strong feelings in me. Specifically, it inspired the desire to beat it with a stick. I am morally opposed to films that seek to prove how much smarter they are than the audience. Similar to his more popularly received film The Lobster, The Favourite is quite intelligent in the way it approaches its themes: power, political games, and the puncturing of the myths we build for ourselves surrounding both royalty and the romance of the past. It ascends to greatness because it never once alienates the audience in order to say these things. Just leave your fantasies of ladies and gentlemen in flower at home; those guys aren’t in this movie.

Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow Ryan's reviews on Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/ryanmeftmovies/

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https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#emma stone #rachel weisz #the favourite #england #movies #olivia colman #joe alwyn #nicholas hoult #mark gatiss #yorgos lanthimos #winston churchill #britain #brendan fraser #france #the mummy #zombieland #robbie ryan #deborah davis #tony mcnamara

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lackadaisical-pottymouth · 6 years

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@desfraisespartout Sara!!

Rei talks with his Dad.

I don’t remember how the story goes, but it climaxes with chicken grease and two overdressed men with puffy red eyes.

It begins with a phone call on a quiet evening. The music is loud, the listener impatient. They don’t have a voicemail and the call is missed.

For Eishi, the employee, it’s a mild annoyance. A thing they’ll try to pick up on next time. For Rei it brings back memories, awful memories that haven’t quite been buried since the last time a relative phoned in and said he sounded “alright”.

It’s the first time that Hello, Lonely Hearts, is cut short, because tremors and shakes stop him from talking freely as the Bird White listeners have come to know (his words come clipped and short, vocalisations of thoughts and memories that lack a trademark swirl to bring them to life. He states them, not says them. “Every call is important”, “Rui died”, “I can’t.”)

Rei’s a mask for sunny days, six for cloudy days. A mask for troublesome customers and a mask for questions he’s not comfortable answering. But despite all this, he has no mask for grief. It’s not the first time the radio station feels so alone, but it’s the first night Rei spends under the table with a thick blanket draped over his shoulders.

The world’s a little too much, and by the time he’s unloaded his entire backstory to Eishi’s ears and the silent walls, all he wants is to shut puffy eyes and rest. His body obliges him with a dreamless sleep and a crinked neck the next morning.

For Rei’s father --Papa, for simplicity's sake-- it’s the first time he’s heard his son on the radio. His tie’s loosed in a dimly lit office, where paperwork makes it difficult to move and meetings have him properly roped for the next millenia. Coffee fuels the cavalry against impending deadlines.

He’s known of his son’s newest endeavour, but never ventured any closer. It doesn’t feel like a thing he should do. It doesn’t feel like a place he belongs. Rei sounds happy, or some fraction thereof. He listens so well and plays music that reminds Papa of a home he didn’t maintain.

It goes sour when Shepherd, his intern, asks, “You like this station?” and dials the number from the jingle before he can say no. It rings once, twice, before he orders the call to be dropped. There’s a lot of work to do, still, and a frog in his throat that stops his words from coming. He fears that if he opens his mouth, it will hop out and say all the ugly things he doesn’t mean.

They mean to continue listening, but Rei comes on, sounding choked as though he’d been forced to eat something sour. “Sorry, folks. Taking a break for a moment.” He says, and doesn’t resume talking about broken hearts and future dreams. Instead he plays a stream of music free of ads. Shepherd seems unbothered.

Papa is perturbed.

He’s plagued by an itch that will not leave. A nagging sensation in the back of his head. Nohara reminds him of a card with familiar numbers scrawled across the top in her brand of script. Her face says “Call him,” and just in case Papa’s suddenly become deaf to it, she adds it verbatim.

“Call. Him.”

So he waits for a lull that comes all too quickly, and he writes down a few notes for him to remember. “I miss you, I’m sorry.” is surprisingly hard for him to say, so instead he goes with, “Hello son, I’m going to be in town, would you like to meet?” It feels like scheduling a business meeting, circumvents the anxieties associated with being human with the tones of autopilot.

Rei picks the place and time, because although he lied that he was stopping by for a routine endeavour, he’s never been to the islet Rei calls home. He feels, a little, like this is very good. He feels, a little, like this will go poorly.

Rei’s body refuses to let him sleep. At five am it wakes him with a pool of sweat and traps him to his bed. It tears his sensibilities in half-- to stay put and cancel, versus going out and facing the giant he’s avoided.

He does neither for an hour, two hours. When the third rolls around he trudges out of bed and into the bathroom. There’s no resolution in his bones as he gets ready, as he promises himself that it’ll be okay.

But that’s a good thing, really, because he ends up in tears anyway. Marilyn rubs circles on his back while his employees-- friends-- try to cheer him up with sweets and tea.

Because that is an awful ending in both their books, they try once more. And because some meetings are impossible to reschedule, they try once more, again.

Something happens despite the careful planning--something involving marinara sauce and shattered glass-- and Rei ends up with a fresh coating of Prego brand blush on his cheeks and hair. Despite the feeling that the evening is ruined, he lets his father hand him a face towel and hold his hair back as he washes his face of tomato and basil.

It’s the sort of thing he’d have been teased for, but his father remains silent. It would have been easier to do it himself.

Dinner is a bust-- not because of pasta sauce make-up, but because both of them are too tired to stand making another and the marinara mess mocks maliciously when they step into Rei’s kitchen. It’s an easy-fix problem for future Rei, but present Rei has tied his hair back and is decidedly Not Having It. Present Papa is of the same mind, but nonetheless mops up as much of it as he can despite Rei’s protests. It’s the first time all day he’s felt useful.

Besides, there’s a restaurant down the street, a bucket of chicken with their names on it. Well, Rei’s name. He has the coupon.

(Why would they need a coupon? Surely someone else would benefit from it instead?)

(Just pick. A seasoning.)

Papa picks a number 12, whatever the hell a number 12 is. Rei concocts some thing with sixteen spices and the blessings of a priest.

Two overdressed men walk into a Chickin Lickin and order a box of crispy wings. It sounds like the start of a joke. Except the punchline isn’t ‘they wanted them all-dressed’ as terrible as it would have been. If the cashier thinks anything of it, she says nothing. In fact, what she looks more concerned about is Rei’s red cheeks (and eyes, because soap is deceptively tricky at the worst of times).

She says, “Here’s your order.” and when Papa isn’t looking (fascinated by posters on eggshell-coloured walls), she adds, “Do you need anything?”

Her eyes are brown and sincere behind circular glasses, just the thing that tilts the evening from “unsalvageable” to “mildly damned”. Rei smiles, thinking she means condiments. “No thanks!” he says, brightly. He gives her a tip.

(He’ll realise it later, that his shirt is stained with a slash of red across his chest, and that there are bandaids on his fingers where he’s rubbed them raw. That his eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks a distressed rouge. He’ll go back and fix the misunderstanding the next day.)

They don’t really talk on the way home. Papa makes a comment about how many stairs there are. Rei, who’s gotten used to walking the route multiple times, says nothing.

Papa’s a level of professional that hasn’t eaten with his hands in--probably a century. Hi first few pieces get just as much on the floor as they do in his mouth. Rei quietly places towels over pinstriped pants and gets on eating his own meal of chicken and beef.

Rei reaches for another chicken, his own stripped of flesh. Somewhere along the line conversation devolves into peppers of regrets (little spices of life). He feels heavy and lethargic, so incredibly tired. This is the longest he’s gone without a smile.

They’re at the foot of a tower of pictures, the dining set forgone and the T.V. silenced. The take-out boxes are like tiny fortresses between a sea of cutlery and plastic bags. Frozen in time, Eishi complains about the weather at the top, while Nico-from-highschool and Sandra-from-college graffiti peace signs onto the side of a building. In the lowest picture, in grainy sepia, Rui smiles down on them with an ugly purple hoodie.

Rei’s shoulders sag, his defenses lowered by Special Spice™ and chipotle sauce. His lips pucker. “I miss him.” he says, finally. It’s the taboo phrase he’s never let himself say, the thing that breaches walls he’d forgotten he put up. “I miss him so bad sometimes.”

He sees him, sometimes. In the sweatpants he used to wear around his apartment, hears him humming that godawful Christmas song he can’t listen to without tearing up now. Sometimes Rui sleeps on the couches, like he used to when he’d spent too much energy running errands.

Rei buries his head in his cardigan, because his cheeks have started to sting. He bites down harder on the bone he was wrestling with as his hands find his shoulders. The sauce stains, but he doesn’t care.

Papa, beside him, breathes as if it hurts.

“You know he called, right? The--a few nights before. He called me. And I didn’t answer, and I promised I would call back but--.”

He remembers Nohara picking him from school, remembers feeling awful about the test that he probably-botched and an irrational fear that she’d somehow sensed his impending failure. Remembers the way he waved at her before realising something was wrong. The way she held him, promising it would all be okay while telling him that the very definition of “okay” had changed drastically.

If possible, it hurts more this time.

Papa speaks, finally, when the silence borders overbearing. “He called me too.” he says, the first that Rei’s ever heard of it. His head raises a fraction from its cardigan cocoon. “I was between meetings and-- He sounded good. Like he’d finally, finally rested.” He looked down and away, his focus on his hands and the beef bone he hadn’t yet finished. “I didn’t find out until later.”

“Did Suki tell you?”

He shook his head, remembering the way he’d called back once he landed in Millet, only for it to be picked up by a roommate on the third try. “I thought he was alright.”

Nohara had said she’d had a feeling, blamed herself for not calling or praying or doing more--depended on the day. But he hadn’t had such a thing. If he timed it out, as he’d grown obsessed with for months after the burial, there wasn’t a single moment when he thought anything could go wrong. The closest was when he thought Rui would hate Millet for all the flowers.

Rei huffed into his arms. “What a mess.”

Papa had to agree.

#it's not finished yet!#There's only like one more part but I'm impatient #stories #mal made a thing #im not happy with it just yet but soon

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33 Fun Facts About Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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33 Fun Facts About Buffy the Vampire Slayer

On the genre-busting television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the heroine saved the world—a lot—over the course of seven seasons. Buffy premiered on the WB 21 years ago today; here are a few things you should know about the show. (And this is just the tip of the stake.)

1. THE SHOW IS A SEQUEL OF SORTS TO A MOVIE.

In the late ‘80s, writer Joss Whedon had an idea for a movie that would subvert the horror genre. “I had seen a lot of horror movies, which I love very much, with blond girls getting killed in dark alleys, and I just germinated this idea about how much I would like to see a blond girl go into a dark alley, get attacked by a monster and then kill it,” he said. “And that was sorta the genesis for the movie, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” The movie, penned by Whedon and directed by Fran Rubel Kuzui, hit theaters in 1992. It starred Kristy Swanson as Buffy, Donald Sutherland as her watcher Merrick, and Luke Perry as her love interest, Pike (David Arquette also starred as Pike’s best friend-turned-vampire Benny). But the film was different from what Whedon had originally intended. “My original script for the movie was kind of dark and scary and it was comedic, but the final product was much more a broad comedy,” he said.

A few years later, the rights holders approached Whedon about making a TV show out of his creation. He wasn’t sure it would work, but “I started to think about it and I came up with the notion of playing all sorts of horror movies in high school and making them metaphors for how frightening and horrible high school is,” he said. “With the show, I kinda wanted to get back to the roots of genuine horror, but with a lot of comedy and a lot of edge and a lot of self reflective sort of examination of horror. But at the same time, get genuinely creepy and hopefully genuinely moving.” And the TV version of Buffy was born.

2. KATIE HOLMES AND RYAN REYNOLDS COULD HAVE STARRED ON THE SHOW.

Could you imagine Katie Holmes as Buffy and Ryan Reynolds as Xander? According to a 2000 biography, before she was Dawson’s Creek’s Joey Potter, Holmes was offered the role of the slayer, but turned it down to go to high school. Reynolds refused the role of Buffy’s wisecracking sidekick. “I love that show and I loved Joss Whedon, the creator of the show, but my biggest concern was that I didn’t want to play a guy in high school,” Reynolds told The Star in 2008. “I had just come out of high school and it was f***ing awful.”

3. GILES WAS THE FIRST ROLE CAST.

According to casting director Marsha Shulman, “Anthony Stewart [Head] was the first person that got cast on the first day we started casting. He was just it.”

Many other actors who read for the part, Whedon said, made Giles too stuffy, but Head’s take was a little sexier. “Tony Head was one of the few people that we saw and instantly knew right away that nobody else was going to play that part,” Whedon said. “He embodied it perfectly.”

4. SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR AND CHARISMA CARPENTER SWAPPED ROLES.

Gellar auditioned for the role of Sunnydale High queen bee Cordelia Chase before eventually being cast as Buffy. “At the time, we were all trying to find our way to make the show something, its own thing apart from the film,” Schulman said in The Watchers Guide. “We didn’t think of Sarah as Buffy because we thought she was too smart and too grounded and not enough of a misfit in a sense, because Buffy was this outsider. How could Sarah be an outsider? She’s so lovely. So we brought her in as Cordelia, and she was fantastic as Cordelia. Then we went to the network, they knew that Sarah was a star from her previous work, and that she could be Buffy, and that we could do that Buffy.”

Carpenter, meanwhile, auditioned for Buffy before being cast as Cordelia. “I think that the way it turned out is the way it was meant to have turned out,” Carpenter told the BBC. “I’m extremely pleased that I wound up with the character that I have for a myriad of reasons. … I don’t know that I would have been ready for that kind of fame if I’d gotten Buffy. So, I think [Buffy] went to the right person.”

5. WILLOW WAS RECAST AFTER THE PILOT WAS SHOT.

Willow, science geek and Buffy’s best friend, was an exceptionally tough part to cast. “We had actually cast someone else in the pilot. It just didn’t work,” Shulman said. “When we got picked up, we always felt that we were going to start again and look for another Willow.”

“I was determined that we wouldn’t have the supermodel in horn rims that you usually see on a TV show,” Whedon said. “I wanted somebody who really had their own shy quirkiness. While the network and I were looking for people, Alyson Hannigan slipped under our radar. She came in and we didn’t really know that she was going to be the guy, and then when she read for the network we were just blown away. She brings so much light and so much tenderness to the role, it’s kind of extraordinary.”

6. DAVID BOREANAZ WAS DISCOVERED BY THE CASTING DIRECTOR’S FRIEND.

Whedon, the network, and the casting director saw a number of guys read for Buffy’s eventual boyfriend (and vampire!) Angel before David Boreanaz auditioned. “The breakdown said the most gorgeous, mysterious, fantastic, the most incredible man on the face of the earth,” Shulman said. “I think I saw every guy in town. It was the day before shooting, and a friend of mine and called me and said to me ‘You know, there’s this guy that lives on my street who walks his dog every day and I don’t know what he does but he has all the things you’re describing.’ And the minute he walked in the room, I wrote down on my notes: This is the guy.”

Still, despite the fact that Boreanaz gave “very good read,” Whedon wasn’t sold on him. “He wasn’t exactly my type,” he said. “I wasn’t sure we necessarily had the guy here until I asked the women in the room, who had turned into puddles the moment he walked in. I had to defer to them—they seemed to know better than me, and thank god I did, because David turned into a great star and a very solid actor.”

7. THE FIRST VERSION OF THE THEME SONG WAS A DUD.

Whedon wanted the credits sequence—which begins with “this scary organ and then devolves instantly into rock ‘n roll”—to spell out for viewers exactly what the show was about: “Here’s a girl who has no patience for a horror movie, who is not going to be the victim, is not going to be in the scary organ horror movie,” he said. “She’s going to bring her own youth and rocking attitude to it.”

Dissatisfied with an early version of the theme, Whedon opened it up in a contest of sorts to local indie bands. It was Hannigan who suggested Nerf Herder; the band ultimately wrote and recorded the show’s theme. “They created the show and were filming the first season and the people there … hired some fancy pants Hollywood guy to write the theme song and they didn’t like it; they wanted something more rocking, I guess,” Nerf Herder’s lead singer, Parry Gripp, said. “So they asked a bunch of local, small time bands who they could pay very little money to come up with some ideas and they liked our idea and they used it. And the rest is history!”

The band rerecorded the theme in the second or third season because the first recording was a hasty affair, and the song went off-tempo in the middle, Whedon said.

8. THE SHOW SHOT IN A WAREHOUSE—AND AT ACTUAL SCHOOLS.

In the beginning, Buffy didn’t have much of a budget, so instead of shooting on a soundstage, the crew used a huge warehouse in Santa Monica, California. “We were very much on a tight budget,” Whedon said. “This hall you’ll see a lot of in the first 12 episodes. It is the entire school. We only had the one hall, so we use it over and over again. It’s really kind of sad, actually.” The outside of the warehouse also doubled as the entrance to Sunnydale’s only club, The Bronze. “When we designed the club, we put the door to the club on the outside of the actual warehouse so that we could go in from the outside because that would give it real life and make it very realistic,” Whedon said. “And of course we did it just once, and then once more in the third season, because you have to wait until night to shoot, go in and out and light it, and it’s just enormously complicated.”

Torrance High School in Los Angeles subbed in for the exterior of fictional Sunnydale High. It’s a popular spot for film and TV; you might also recognize it from Beverly Hills, 90210, The Secret Life of the American Teenager, 90210, She’s All That, Not Another Teen Movie, and more. And when Buffy went to college, most of Sunnydale University was shot in the warehouse, but some parts of the first episode of the fourth season were shot at UCLA.

9. THERE WAS A REASON FOR THE VAMPIRES’ CREEPY FACES—AND THE “DUSTING.”

In the Buffy movie, the vampires looked like regular people with sharper teeth and paler skin. But for the show, Whedon wanted to increase the sense of paranoia by making the vampires resemble normal people until it’s time to feed—at which point, they transform into monsters. But there was another reason, too. “I didn’t think I really wanted to put a show on the air about a high school girl who was stabbing normal-looking people in the heart,” Whedon said. “I thought somehow that might send the wrong message, but when they are clearly monsters, it takes it to a level of fantasy that is safer.”

Getting into vamp mode—which required a prosthetic that fit from the forehead down to the bottom of the nose—took about an hour and 20 minutes. “It can be tedious,” David Boreanaz said in 1998, “and taking it off is the worst part, because you have to sit there and you just want to rip the damn thing off—but you can’t, because you’ll take a piece of your skin with you. It has to be removed very delicately. But the end result is definitely worth it.”

The film also had vampire bodies lay where they fell after they were staked. But Whedon had different ideas for the show. “It was a very conscious decision to have [the vampires] turn to dust, clothes and all, because I didn’t think it would be fun to have 15 minutes of let’s clean up the bodies after every episode,” he said. The show’s visual effects artists worked on and refined the technique over the seasons.

10. THE CREATORS DREW ON EXISTING VAMPIRE LORE FOR THE SHOW.

But they didn’t use everything. Vampires don’t fly on Buffy or turn into bats because the show didn’t have the money and Whedon thought it looked silly. Other elements of vampire lore, however, were used: Vampires don’t have reflections; they can’t enter a house unless they’re invited; they’re vulnerable to garlic, crosses, sunlight, fire, and holy water; and they can be killed by beheading or via a stake through the heart.

11. GELLAR HAD SOME PROBLEMS WITH THE DIALOGUE.

The show was famous for its “Buffyspeak,” which was partially inspired by California Valleygirl-isms and how Whedon and the other writers spoke. For Gellar, though, that dialogue sometimes was an issue. “Joss has his own sort of language that’s difficult for us mere mortals to understand,” she said in 1998. “I grew up in New York. We didn’t have Valley girls, and constantly, I’m asking him ‘What does this mean? I’m not quite sure.’ There’s a very funny story about [my audition] where the first line is ‘What’s the sitch?’ And there I go walking in, and my first ‘What does this mean?’ No idea it meant situation. Talk about blowing a job instantly.”

12. HERE’S WHERE YOU’VE SEEN SEASON ONE’S BIG VILLAIN BEFORE.

Underneath all of the Master’s vampy makeup is actor Mark Metcalf, who has appeared in Animal House (he played Doug Neidermeyer) and Seinfeld (he played The Maestro), among many other films and television shows. “Most of the guys we read came in and gave us villain villain villain in a very unimaginative way,” Whedon said. “Mark’s not that character, he’s just sly. He undercut all of the villainousness with real charm.”

13. THE CAST AND CREW HATED THE LIBRARY SCENES.

Head delivered much of the show’s expository dialogue in the library—and cast and crew alike came to dread those scenes. “He’s brought so much to all these really tough speeches, giving them life where they had very little because they’re full of so much information,” Whedon said. “When we finally blew up the school at the end of season three and were in the library for the last time, everybody breathed a great sigh of relief because these became the bane for us when we were filming, to go back into this space and talk yet again about what the peril was going to be.”

14. DARLA WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE IN THE SECOND EPISODE.

The vampire (played by Julie Benz) was supposed to expire at the end of “The Harvest” after Willow doused her with holy water, but Whedon kept her alive because he thought Buffy and Angel’s romance would be more interesting if it was a triangle; Darla, of course, was Angel’s sire. She was eventually killed in episode seven, but would continue to pop up in other episodes—and in the spin-off show, Angel—from time to time.

15. GELLAR AND BOREANAZ WOULD EAT GROSS STUFF BEFORE KISSING SCENES.

In a 2002 interview with The Independent, Gellar called love scenes “the unsexiest thing in the world.” What she and Boreanaz did beforehand couldn’t have made it any sexier. “[We] were the worst,” she said. “We would do horrible things to each other. Like eat tuna fish and pickle before we kissed. If he had to unbutton my shirt or trousers I would pin them or sew them together to make it as hard as I could. Once I even dropped ice cream on him.”

16. THE SHOW BUILT ITS OWN GRAVEYARD.

In the first season, Buffy shot in a graveyard in Hollywood. “It meant going out all night, until sunrise, a lot of times,” Whedon said. “That was back when we had the energy for that kind of thing.” Starting in the second season, they created their own graveyard in the warehouse’s parking lot. “It made our lives a whole lot easier, but it doesn’t give you the scope that you get from [the Hollywood graveyard],” Whedon said. “It’s a really beautiful place. Looks great.”

“We poured in kerb, back-filled it with dirt and planted grass and lots of trees and stuff and that’s our graveyard set,” production designer Carey Meyer told the BBC. “The majority of our cemetery stuff actually takes place in that little tiny parking lot. At night, with a couple of headstones in the background with all the trees and such, you can really cheat to make it look quite large.”

17. WHEDON HAD AN INTERESTING NICKNAME FOR GELLAR.

At a cast reunion in 2008, Whedon revealed—to Gellar’s surprise—an odd nickname for her, borne from the fact that she dealt with so much pain on screen. “David [Greenwalt] and I used to crow, when we realized what Sarah could do,” he said. “We used to call her Jimmy Stewart, because he was the greatest American in pain in the history of film.” Gellar laughed and said “I never knew that!”

18. AT LEAST TWO ACTORS PLAYED MORE THAN ONE VILLAIN.

Brian Thompson, who played vampire Luke in the first two episodes, returned in the second season to play The Judge. “Quite frankly, we were in a hurry,” Whedon said. “We already had his face cast and we knew he could put makeup on and give us a good performance.” Camden Toy, meanwhile, played a number of villains, including one of the Gentlemen in “Hush” (season four), a skin-eating demon called Gnarl in “Same Time, Same Place” (season seven), and Ubervamp Turok-Han (throughout season seven).

19. THE WRITERS HAD THEIR OWN TERM FOR PLOT-MOVING DEVICES.

It was coined by writer David Greenwalt. “A lot of this stuff is based on myth and horror movies, and a lot of it made up for our convenience,” Whedon says. “At one point, when we were trying to figure out exactly what Buffy would be trying to do [in the first episode], Greenwalt just shouted out ‘For God’s sake, don’t touch the phlebotnum in Jar C!’ We have no idea to this day what it was supposed to mean, but it became our word for the vague mystical thing—such as the master’s cork in the bottle theory—so phlebotnum is our constant on the show.”

20. WHEDON WROTE THE LARGELY DIALOGUE-FREE EPISODE “HUSH” TO CHALLENGE HIMSELF.

Season four’s tenth episode, “Hush,” features creepy villains called The Gentlemen, who come to Sunnydale and steal the residents’ voices … so that no one can scream when the monsters cut out their hearts. There are only 17 minutes of spoken dialogue in the 44 minute episode. Whedon wanted to do a largely silent episode because he felt like he was phoning it in. “I had fallen into the ‘people a-yakkin, I can sort of do this without really thinking about it’ style of directing, and I wanted to curtail that in myself,” he said. “On a practical level, the idea of doing an episode where everybody loses their voice presented itself as a great big challenge because I knew that I would literally have to tell the story only visually, and that would mean that I couldn’t fall back on tricks. I wanted to do something harder.” Though Whedon was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to pull off the episode, it was well received by critics, and is a favorite of fans and the series’ stars alike.

21. THE GENTLEMEN WERE INSPIRED BY A DREAM.

A version of Buffy’s creepiest villains first appeared in a dream of Whedon’s; they floated toward him while he was in bed. “What I was going for was very specifically a very Victorian kind of feel, because that to me is very creepy and fairytale-like,” Whedon said. He created a drawing, which he delivered to makeup supervisor Todd McIntosh and John Vulich at Optic Nerve, the special effects house that created the prosthetics for the show. “I was drawing on everything that had ever frightened me, including the fellow from my dream, Nosferatu, pinhead, Mr. Burns—anything that gave that creepy feel,” Whedon said. “We get into a lot of reptilian monsters and things that look kind of like aliens, and what I wanted from these guys was, very specifically, fairy tales. I wanted guys who would remind people of what would they were scared of when they were children.”

Whedon’s ultimate hope was that kids of a certain generation would be as traumatized by the Gentlemen as he was by the Zuni Doll from Trilogy of Terror. The team cast mimes and actors who had done creature work—like Doug Jones—to play the Gentlemen.

22. THE HARDEST CHARACTER FOR WHEDON TO KILL OFF WAS BUFFY’S MOM.

One of Buffy‘s most critically acclaimed episodes is season five’s “The Body,” in which the slayer’s mom, played by Kristine Sutherland, dies of natural causes. Whedon said in a 2012 Reddit AMA that Joyce was the toughest character for him to kill. He did the episode, he said in DVD commentary, because “I wanted to show not the meaning or catharsis or the beauty of life or any of the things that are often associated with loss, or even extreme grief, which we do get in the episode. But what I did want to capture was the extreme physicality, the almost boredom of the very first few hours. I wanted to be very specific about what it felt like the moment you discover you’ve lost someone. And so what appears to many people as a formal exercise—no music, scenes that take up almost the entire act, if not the entire act, without end—is all done for a very specific purpose, which is to put you in that moment of dumbfounded shock, that airlessness of losing somebody.”

The moments after Buffy discovers her mother dead on the couch were done in a single take, which Whedon had Gellar perform seven times (the actress has called the episode one of her favorites). “The cameraman had the camera on his shoulder the whole time and was running around,” Whedon said. “It wasn’t a steadicam—he had no harness because I wanted that urgency of handheld, that you’re in the moment of it. It’s an extraordinary piece of acting from Sarah … to go from the extremity of first finding her, the helplessness of not knowing what to do. All the things that Sarah had to go through in this, she had to go through many, many times. And every take was extraordinary.”

23. ONE SHOT IN “THE BODY” WAS INSPIRED BY DIRECTOR PAUL THOMAS ANDERSON.

One shot in “The Body” follows the coroner after he examines Joyce’s body out to where Buffy waits with her friends in another single take. “I am a huge Paul Thomas Anderson fan,” Whedon said, “and I had been watching Magnolia excessively before I shot this. So these endless tracking shots probably owe something to that. What can I say, I’m a hack. But what I was really trying to get at here was, again, the reality of the space. I wanted to see Joyce very clearly, and then I wanted to walk all the way over to where Buffy was, where her loved ones were, so that you understood she was down the hall, she was really there. We weren’t on a different set.” Whedon gave kudos to production designer Carey Meyer for building sets that would let him get those long takes.

24. GELLAR KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IN SEASON FIVE WELL IN ADVANCE.

Several moments in the final episode of season three foreshadowed two major events in season five: Namely, that Buffy would get a sister (Dawn, played by Michelle Trachtenberg) and that the slayer would die at the end of season five. “I’ve actually known the [plot of the] entire last season for about three years,” she told the BBC. “There was a dream sequence that Buffy had with Faith. Faith had a riddle, and it was something like ‘Little Miss Muffet, sitting on her tuffet,’ counting down from whatever the numbers were, and I went to Joss to ask what it meant. That’s when he explained to me that I was going to have a sister, that Dawn, the character of Dawn, would be coming on the show. I think that’s exactly when I became aware also of what the future plans were.”

Why manufacture a sister out of thin air? “Part of the mission statement was, let’s have a really important, intense emotional relationship for Buffy that is not a boyfriend,” he told Salon. “Because let’s not have her be defined by her boyfriend every time out of the bat. So, Season 5, she’s as intense as she was in Season 2 with Angelus, but it’s about her sister. To me that was really beautiful.”

25. SEASON SIX WAS THE TOUGHEST FOR GELLAR.

After the fifth season, Buffy moved from the WB to UPN and resurrected its heroine for the sixth season—which was darker in tone (and more controversial) than any season before it. “It was definitely tough for me,” Gellar said at a Paley Center event in 2008. “It’s so hard to separate myself from her, so it was tough for me to see these situations and say ‘But Buffy wouldn’t do this.’ … I know Joss and Marti both had to talk me off a ledge a couple of times because it just felt so far removed from me at the time, and maybe that was the point. Maybe I was struggling the same way she was struggling to find out who she was. It just felt so foreign to me. … We love her, and I think it was hard for all of us to watch her suffer. … It was a tough time. And I think that’s what came through in the end, and that was great. When Buffy herself resurfaced, we sort of found our voice again.”

26. WRITER/PRODUCER MARTI NOXON HAS A CAMEO.

She’s the lady with the parking ticket in “Once More, With Feeling.”

27. GELLAR CALLED THE MUSICAL EPISODE “DAUNTING.”

“I’m a perfectionist, I come from a long line of lots of preparation, and certainly that was not the case with this,” she said. “If I had my druthers, we would have gotten it about two years ago and been in classes for a year and a half, maybe six weeks of rehearsals? Instead of four days.” At a Paley Center event in 2008, Gellar admitted to “begging” to be let out of it. “I begged for Buffy the rat,” she said. “I kept thinking, ‘Bring the rat back.’”

28. STONE TEMPLE PILOTS’ LEAD SINGER WAS A FAN.

Scott Weiland reportedly became a fan while watching the show in prison. Gellar, who later appeared in the band’s music video for “Sour Girl,” had a theory about why the show was so popular among prison inmates: “Hot chicks doing battle. It’s like acceptable porn.”

29. GELLAR KNEW THE SHOW WAS OVER BEFORE THE REST OF THE CAST.

In the March 7, 2003 Entertainment Weekly cover story, Gellar announced that Buffy was coming to an end after seven seasons. “I love this job, I love the fans,” she said. “I love telling the stories we tell. This isn’t about leaving for a career in movies, or in theater—it’s more of a personal decision. I need a rest. Teachers get sabbaticals. Actors don’t.” The rest of the cast found out the day the story hit stands. “I was devastated,” Hannigan said in 2013. “I was just very shocked.”

30. BUFFY’S ADVENTURES CONTINUE IN COMIC BOOKS.

A number of writers who worked on the TV show have also worked on the comics. Even James Marsters, who played vampire Spike on the show, wrote a comic about his character. “I was at the San Diego Comic Con and I was describing an idea that had been kicking around my head for a long time to [artist] George Jeanty, who draws a lot of the Buffy comic books,” Marsters told io9. “And he thought that it was a fabulous idea and that I should definitely get in touch with [Dark Horse editor] Scott Allie. He made the phone call and then I pitched it to Scott over the phone and Scott liked it a lot. It’s a story that was going to try to be made into a Spike movie years and years ago.”

31. THERE WAS TALK OF AN ANIMATED SERIES.

Whedon and the show’s other writers produced seven scripts for an animated Buffy series, which would have taken place during the show’s first three seasons and been voiced by the cast. Sadly, no one wanted the show. “They were really fun to write,” Whedon said. “We could not sell the show. We could not sell an animated Buffy, which I still find incomprehensible.”

32. THE SHOW SPAWNED ACADEMIC COURSES…

A number of colleges and universities offer courses on the show; they’re called “Buffy Studies.” People have written books and held conferences dedicated to discussing the themes of the show and presenting papers on it. According to the Los Angeles Times, attendees at a 2004 Buffy conference “were presenting 190 papers on topics ranging from ‘slayer slang’ to ‘postmodern reflections on the culture of consumption’ to ‘Buffy and the new American Buddhism.’ There was even a self-conscious talk by David Lavery, an English professor at Middle Tennessee State University, on Buffy studies ‘as an academic cult.'”

An informal study conducted by Slate in 2012 showed that, when it comes to pop culture in academia, Buffy is number one: “More than twice as many papers, essays, and books have been devoted to the vampire drama than any of our other choices—so many that we stopped counting when we hit 200.”

33. … AND A BOOK OF SLANG.

Publisher’s Weekly called Slayer Slang: A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Lexicon “a strange marriage of a fan guide and a linguistics textbook.” Said The Kansas City Star: “If you’re curious about the word ‘ubersuck,’ or just want to remember which episode you first heard it in, this is the place to look. As Buffy would say, it is not uncool.”

BONUS: RARE BEHIND-THE-SCENES FOOTAGE

During the second season, Pruitt filmed behind-the-scenes footage of the cast goofing off and getting into makeup, the stunt crew at work, and some of the show’s most iconic sequences. You can watch it above.

Additional sources: DVD commentary; The Watcher’s Guide.

All images courtesy of Getty Images unless otherwise noted.

This piece originally ran in 2014.

#33 #Buffy #facts #Fun #Slayer #Vampire #Facts

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