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rileymarie · 3 years

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Fahrenheit 451 Quotes

“Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?” And then he shut up, for he remembered last week and the two white stones staring up at the ceiling and the pump-snake with the probing eye and the two soap-faced men with the cigarettes moving in their mouths when they talked. But that was another Mildred, that was a Mildred so deep inside this one, and so bothered, really bothered, that the two women had never met. He turned away.

Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books levelled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me?”

Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.

Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man's mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters, that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!”

School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”

More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience.

Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally 'bright,' did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal.

Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator.

You can't rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That's why we've lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we're almost snatching them from the cradle.

If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the Government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it.

Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide-rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won't be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely.

And the second?” “Leisure.” “Oh, but we've plenty of off-hours.” “Off-hours, yes. But time to think? If you're not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can't think of anything else but the danger, then you're playing some game or sitting in some room where you can't argue with the fourwall televisor. Why? The televisor is 'real.' It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be, right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn't time to protest, 'What nonsense!'”

“Jesus God,” said Montag. “Every hour so many damn things in the sky! How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it? We've started and won two atomic wars since 1960. Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumours; the world is starving, but we're well-fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much?

Lord, how they've changed it — in our 'parlours' these days. Christ is one of the 'family' now. I often wonder it God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshipper absolutely needs.”

The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

"Number one: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless.

Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said, quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the inter-action of the first two.

They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”

The old man nodded. “Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents.”

#fahrenheit 451 #book quotes #quotes #books #crap this book predicted the future #ray bradbury #reading

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ariana-maryse · 3 years

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Top 10 Hottest for December

I really wanted this one to be Christmas themed, but I’ve apparently seen almost no holiday horror films. So I’mma do what I can first and then proceed normally.

Billy Peltzer (Zach Galligan, Gremlins)

Starting off with someone that’s innocent and charming. Not my usual type, but he’s mad cute. He makes bad choices, but don’t we all?

Sarah Engel (Toni Collette, Krampus)

100% on here because it’s Toni Collette and I’m really tryna cram some Christmas on here.

Mildred Ratched (Sarah Paulson, Ratched)

The definition of a ride or die. She’s crafty, she’s smart, and she fine af. Hell yeah.

John Ryder (Sean Bean, The Hitcher)

That one scene where Closer is playing and he causes that whole ass wreck really does some things for me.

Michonne (Danai Gurira, The Walking Dead)

The way she swings a sword absolutely disintegrates my clothes. Michonne: has her arms out, Me: lol why r my clothes gone

Owen Sharma (Rahul Kohli, The Haunting of Bly Manor)

Another wholesome babe. The dad jokes, the sweaters, the kindness. Must protect.

Eddie Kaspbrak (Dennis Christopher, It)

And another one. When he’s like, “I know it’s just camphor water, but I need it anyway.” Babyyyy.

Abraham (Winston Duke, Us)

When Red’s like, “I get stuck with this asshole” I’m like... okay, but, like... that ain’t so bad.

Jack Marrowbone (George MacKay, Marrowbone)

A strange turn of events as we have a fourth sweet bab. He’s so charming and so soft. Ugh. Love.

Charly (Sheri Moon Zombie, 31)

What a badass. She said fuck this entire game, I’m about to whoop some ass. And I’m going to look hot doing it, too.

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genuflectx · 4 years

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4th Dimensional Being/OC - CH1

Full Length: 19,543

Chapter Length: 4,248

Main Themes: Other dimensions, tentacles, confinement, nsfw

Other Warnings: politics, "godly" behaviors, vomit, feeling of loss of autonomy, comparison to a toy

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

I ended writing a novella... this is my longest short, non-fanfic work yet. It's not perfect but was a fun exploration of these characters and themes. Yes, there will be explicit sex in a later chapter :) Later on I will format the novella correctly for a nice little Gumroad/Patron release! Enjoy! (WILL BE NSFW IN LATER CHAPTERS)

The 4DB Chapter 1: Heartburn

“Do you need any stamps?”

The middle-aged woman re-set her teeth subconsciously and rose a brow. “No, I just came to drop off the package.” Her eyes crinkled in a way that passive aggressively said 'get on with it.'

Chris pursed her lips, features big and round with false politeness. “Okay then! If you could just insert your card-”

“Is it one that takes chips?” She interrupted.

“Yes, it's ready for you.”

The mail room was a quiet murmur as the card clacked against the plastic scanner. Eventually it happened to slipped in. “It's not doing anything.”

“You might have it in the wrong way ma'am,” Chris suggested, tense.

The woman squinted, a corner of her mouth raising in distaste. She ripped the card from its slot and turned it around. The machine asked her pin. She got it right on the third try. Finally, the package could be put in its place as the lady left with a stick up her ass.

“Some customers are just the worst,” Chris concluded as she and two of her co-workers were closing shop.

Vincent shrugged. “They just like to take out their anger on strangers to make'em feel better,” he smiled and locked the door.

Mildred chuckled and rolled her eyes, patting Chris on the shoulder. “Make sure none of them hear you talking like that!” She started to walk to her car. “I been here for a decade. You'll get used to them.”

“Well I been here a year, I ought to be too!” Chris groaned, slumping dramatically where she stood.

“Just get some rest, tomorrow's the big event!” Vincent grinned and pranced off to his own car.

Chris found her feet dragging on, her hand fumbling for keys. “Yeah yeah, see you there,” she mumbled, climbing on in with exhaustion.

She was never much of a people-pleaser, but she did her job alright. After a long exasperating work week the weekend was blessedly encroaching upon her, right along side the annual downtown gathering of Gabriel's Children. Chris was not one of those children. However, Vincent had been since the horn had first begun to blow. Chris did have to admit it was an astounding scientific phenomenon, but that's all it was. Just something science had yet to explain. The little festival the locals vended had delicious food, though. Hearing the horn was a fun little bonus.

The festivities started early in the morning and she arrived with Vincent in the afternoon. There was a talk being held at its center, which Vincent felt the need to drag her to hear after gathering snacks. They nibbled on freshly baked pastries and sipped hot coffee as a man high on the stage explained recent discoveries of the hum- another word for the horn. Chris thought maybe they'd come in a little late, as the man was already beginning to finish off his speech. Plus, it was hard to hear with the bustling of the surrounding crowd; all the people laughing and chatting and cooking at their stands, necklaces jingling and children begging parents for magnets of trumpets and angels. She strained her ears to listen.

“So if it wasn't the factory, if we are inland unlike the Children of Europe, we have no buzzing wind farms nor major fault lines, then what is it? What is the 'horn?'” He stalked across the stage, pacing and looking so, so serious. “Twenty years and we have no answers. But we know it's sped up. We know it's moved and honed in to few locations; from our little mid-American town, to Washington D.C., all the way down to the hot, dry climates of Texas.”

Chris sighed and slid further in her chair, looking bored. “We've heard all this before. They haven't learned anything new in years,” she whispered across to her excited co-worker. Vincent shushed her and she resisted a bored moan.

The speaker was unaffected, totally unaware of a particular audience member's dry indifference. “Every year now it comes, and every year we gather again to try and learn something. Anything,” he frowned.

Chris crammed cinnamon role into her gob and huffed quietly. “Good luck.” She washed it down with a big swig of coffee.

Vincent gave her a look that could melt the bones right out of her body. She smirked at him.

“Maybe this year... things will be different,” the speaker trailed off quietly and quit pacing. He became eerily still, looking out over the heads of the crowd and into the mottled stone walls of downtown. Vincent felt that he was pausing for dramatic effect, but Chris rose a brow. He'd stopped speaking, almost wall eyed.

“Shit,” Chris suddenly whispered, bringing fingers to her temples and shutting her eyes.

“You okay?” Vincent worried, glancing from her to the stage with a sense of terrible unease.

She grit her teeth and shut her eyes. Her ears were ringing, one even popped. A few seconds passed. It slowly subsided into a dull pain. “Just a weird headache? Guess it's all the noise,” she dropped her hands, exhaling.

“Guess he got one too?” Vincent gestured uncomfortably.

She followed his hand up to the stage, where the speaker was continuing to pause. By now it had just become awkward; his palm on his forehead and a pained expression encased his wrinkled visage. The crowd had begun to murmur in confusion. Slowly he swallowed, like forcing down vomit, then became relieved enough to continue.

“That's... that's all. Thank you for coming to listen to me speak,” he shuffled away to the shallow stairs and disappeared, making way for the next speaker.

“Weird,” Chris mumbled. “Maybe air pressure then? Well come on, I want to look at some shops before the countdown reaches zero.”

He jumped up enthusiastically, all starry eyed. “Yeah! I want a new key chain!”

As they carefully navigated the crowd back to the local art shops, Chris shook her head and laughed. “Don't you already have like, six trumpets?” She scolded.

He scoffed and waved a hand. “Pch, sure, but they're all different!”

An hour to go. They browsed, they made small talk, they sat stiff on freezing metal benches outside of local junk shops. Vincent not only snatched up a key chain but a copy of a screen print as well. He turned it upside down and squinted, humming. It was some abstract piece. Flat shapes seemed to wiggle around at him in a colorful confusion.

“Why don't you buy anything?” He asked, tuning the print right side up again.

She shrugged, chilled hands in warming pockets. “I'm not a tourist like you.”

“Heeey, I resent that!” He joked, trying to hide a smile.

Suddenly Chris winched, putting a hand at the nape of her neck. There it was again, that creeping feeling of a splitting headache coming back. She sighed and slowed her pace, feeling nauseous.

“Listen, I think I'm gonna head home.”

Her friend expressed disappointment. “What! It's only fifteen minutes now! Really want to miss Gabriel?”

She nodded, rubbing her neck and looking down. “Yeah, I really feel icky. Besides, I'll probably still hear it in my car if I roll the windows down. I think the crowd and air pressure are just overwhelming me.” Chris did hate to leave her friend to himself, but he was a big boy, even if he was two years younger. She just didn't feel up to staying any longer.

He pretended to pout and waved her goodbye. “See ya at work Monday,” he called across the loud, mingling voices of the festival.

Chris waved back and found her way through downtown, back out into the more empty streets. She pressed a red button. The streetlight sounded and the image turned white so she crossed swiftly on numbed feet. She made it up the car park elevator, found her car among the dimly lit concrete slopes, and finally was on her way home. The headache had yet to return during the trip so she counted herself lucky.

The roads were relatively empty due to the majority of traffic having already settled in to wait for Gabriel's horn, though a few roads were annoyingly blocked off for the event. She was deathly glad for the vacant roads that allowed her to slip out of downtown with an ease she'd not get to enjoy any other day.

“Oh right,” Chris rolled down her side window. Fresh cold air flowed in, which soothed her head a little. “Not long now.”

She was just about out of downtown when it happened. But... there was no horn. No rusty screech, no hum that she'd grown to know so well. However, there was an awful, unaccounted for noise that came from the rolling Heavens. A sharp, quick sound; a hard whispered word blasted her brain and set it on fire. It hurt like Hell. Like the loud screech of white noise when one had forgotten to turn the volume down before pressing 'on.' Chris slammed her breaks and cried, her wheels screaming. Was that what Vincent heard, waiting patiently back in the crowd? Or was it just in her head?

Chris pressed the gas gently, teeth grit and eyes barely open. She veered into an empty parking lot and stopped askew over two spaces. She yanked her hair and pressed her forehead against the wheel then suddenly felt extremely sick. She fumbled for the door then stumbled out. Chris felt pressure and collapsed clumsily to her knees against the broken asphalt. After a few moments some of the pressure let up, but then she heard that word again.

“What's wrong with me?” She slurred, feeling dizzy.

A look around found that she was very much alone. There was nothing but empty parked cars. The pain was suddenly gone. She froze and took a deep breath, her eyes re-focusing and hands shaking. She needed to go to the hospital but did not want to pay for the ambulance. Vincent could drive her. Her hand slowly retrieved the phone from her pocket, but as she pressed the button to find Vincent's contact she heard the word one last time. Sharp, quick, just like the first, but it was more clear.

“Wh-what? I'm hallucinating,” She mumbled, knowing full well that that was not the sound of Gabriel's horn.

“Chrysanthemum,” a loud-quiet voice called out in her head.

“Shit!” She dropped her phone and watched it smack against the faded asphalt.

“Chrysanthemum, don't be afraid. You are not hallucinating. The pain you felt was an... accident,” it explained, lowering its voice.

“God?” Chris called, slipping onto her butt and staring with fear into the sky. She was shaking from head to toe now.

It made a weird sound. “No, we are not a god, though we may seem it to you. We are the noise you call 'Gabriel's Horn,' but we are neither Gabriel nor Horn. The 'Horn' you've heard was merely our days affecting your years as we... tuned equipment,” Not-Gabriel explained plainly.

She glanced from cloud to cloud, brows furrowed so hard her forehead hurt. For a moment she thought if she just searched long enough she'd be able to find the face that was talking down on her.

“It will be difficult for you to understand and will take many of your days to acclimate. Do you at least understand this Chrysanthemum?” It sounded condescending at the end.

Chris scowled. “Well you can't be God if you keep using a name I don't go by,” she complained.

“We are of the 4th dimension. We are not a god. Here. I will touch your insides, it may feel strange,” it warned. “See?”

She screamed and grabbed her stomach. It felt like her acid churned, and suddenly she had heart burn. Chris burped and felt woozy. “That's... ohhh I think mm gonna pahhh-” Chris collapsed heavily to her back, unconscious.

There was nothing, nothing, nothing, then there was something. She saw herself amid a void. It was like a thick goo, as if the gas or lack of gas in the air had solidified. There was no cold nor heat, no apparent up nor down. But then, as she turned her head towards her feet, there was an illumination that lit the ground beneath her. A flat plain decorated with complex, ornate geometry rested below. She squatted against her calves, though it felt years before she came to a halt, and with every tiny change in posture she saw a ghost of her former self.

“Hello?” She called, echoing into the void. Her word simultaneously stuck in the goo and penetrated its atoms all at once. This world was a contradiction.

Something small screamed, a high-pitched trill of terror and shock. Chris glanced down at the geometry and squinted. The geometry was moving; it shivered and vibrated like cells in a body. It was all scrambling so fast compared to her.

“Hello?” She asked again, balancing with a hand so she may come closer.

It screamed again. A tiny little organism wriggled backwards, and across the plain something tickled Chris's hand. She lifted it and gawked with disgust and horror. She'd squished something, and it lay in bits in pieces.

“Whoops, I think I broke something,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Don't smite me!” Squeaked the thing by her feet.

Chris frowned. “What are you? You're so small and... flat.”

It rotated and looked around, but it never once looked up into the sky. The creature could not see anything but the outline of her shoes where she'd stepped atop its planet.

“You don't know?” It asked, sounding only slightly less panicked. “Then you're not God? Are you from Somewhere Else?”

She shook her head, confused. “No, I'm not a god. I'm Chris. And you're a cell?”

“A cell?”

“Yeah, a small organism that can group up to become a bigger organism. I'm full of them. You look like all the diagrams we used in school. But you can talk and I can see your insides. Which is the mitochondria?” She scrutinized the inside of the creature's body. It was sorta gross.

The flat creature's brain was working hard as it stared at the funny outline of Chris's shoes. She could even see it working. It nervously moved around her shape, making a full circle to get a whole picture.

“You're gigantic, please don't hurt me Chris. What do you want?”

“I don't- woah!” She began to sink. The illuminated plain was caving to her weight, but only she passed through. The plain itself remained as flat as ever. “I'm gonna fall!”

The creature's panic sky rocketed as it watched the line gyrate and change, growing larger and longer. “Ahhh!” It yelled, backing into a corner. If Chris continued to grow it would have no way of escape and be crushed against the side of a wall. “What's happening? What's wrong?”

She slipped further. Now it was Chris who was in a panic, scared of the endless black void below the flat planet. She sunk through to her elbows, leaving her to sprawl her arms and claw at the ground for purchase. Across the world her fingers scraped through a once wondrous shape, which crumpled and splintered as she accidentally destroyed its existence.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” She freaked out, heart beating like on a roller coaster. Chris fell.

She gasped, her skin clammy and damp. Everything was too bright and she shielded her eyes.

“You're awake, good. Here,” a man said.

Chris sat up and exhaled, her eyes adjusting. She was in a stranger's house and was being handed a glass of cold water, though the ice inside had since melted. The flat planet was a dream. She had not really scraped a building from the face of a world. As she took the water, her hands shaking, she realized something.

“...You look familiar. Where am I?” She fretted, sipping a little.

He sat across from her in a chair. “What's the last thing you remember?” He asked rather than answer.

She crossed her legs atop the couch and dabbed sweat off with her sleeve. It took some brain power to get any semblance of memory going. “I had some sort of weird... episode. Then I passed out in a parking lot. I think I need a hospital,” Chris groaned.

He grinned. “So you did hear it?”

“What?”

“You heard it? The thing that says its from another dimension?” He was star-struck.

Chris stared down into her cup, thinking. Flashes came back to her until finally she remembered everything, right down to the nausea. A chill came over her body so she sat the cold water down. “It wasn't a hallucination.”

“No it wasn't!” He exclaimed, shivering with excitement. “It spoke to me too! It told me where to find you since you fell unconscious! But we aren't the only ones. It spoke to even more.”

She quirked the corner of her lips and let that information sink in. Suddenly something came to her and she tilted her head curiously. “You're that man from the stage.”

“Call me Cole,” he scooted closer and stuck out a hand.

Chris hesitated, unsure. “Chris.” She shook his hand daintily.

He explained everything. The headache, the ringing in his ears, how he'd been packing up his laptop to leave backstage when the countdown hit zero. To everyone else it had been a disappointment, for this year the horn did not hum to the eager ears awaiting it. Instead, it narrowed down its focus and spoke to them. Chris and Cole, but others, too.

“It told me there were six others. That includes you. So outside of us there are five other people it spoke to directly,” he explained.

“But... why? Just seven people?”

He leaned back in his chair and shrugged, nonchalant. “I asked, after the initial shock and having dropped my laptop (may she rest in peace). It just said: you work for your government.”

Chris looked off, expression soured. It was true. The Postal Service was a branch of the government, but she hardly equated government with the mail.

“What do you do?” She asked him nervously.

“Department of Energy.”

Chris got the creeping notion that his house was vaguely radioactive. Or, at the very least, he was. “Great.” She stretched her legs over the couch's edge and stared at her shoes awkwardly. “So now what?”

“We wait to be called upon,” he answered simply. “I'll go start some tea,” and like that Cole was out the room.

So they waited and waited. Chris thumbed through books as she did, glancing at Cole's collection and idly sipping tea. Sometimes she'd get the fear that he was making it all up, that this was all a scheme to kidnap her without freaking her out. Or that maybe he was just some guy screwing with her head. But then her stomach would churn and she'd remember how it felt to be touched. Chris felt queasy. At the same time she couldn't help but feel... honored? It was strange. This was all so new to her.

Finally it came to them. This time there was no pain, no headaches or heartburn. Cole fell to his knees as soon as the creature spoke, but Chris just sank shakily back into couch, empty teacup in hand.

“You will be transported to a location for study,” it said.

Cole nodded his head and agreed instantly, but Chris found herself asking it: “Why? And where?”

“Why: a 'mutual' exchange of information in a controlled environment. Where: the center of your 'country' in a long-term observation facility.”

She balked. “For how long?” But Cole spoke over her.

“That's brilliant! Brilliant! Have you spoke to the president? Surely you have,” he clasped his hands together and smiled.

“...Yes. Unfortunately. Some deep convincing was needed to induce submission,” it replied with obvious irritation.

Chris was uncomfortable and suspicious of the wording, though she was not surprised the president was a nuisance to converse with. The creature assured them there would be at least a day or two before anyone came for collection, so they had some time to prepare. Cole questioned why this creature could not simply pick them up and plop them back down, but it was uncertain that such action would be healthy. So again they played a waiting game.

Chris went back to her house. Cole stayed in his. Sunday dawned upon the world and there was no one yet at their doors. Chris paced uneasily in her little home, her suitcases already packed in the living room. She didn't know what to do with herself. Couldn't even stomach trying to explain anything to Vincent or Mildred. Hell, did she even want to leave? She was sure she had no choice.

Finally, come Monday morning, there was a knock at her door. She jumped from bed and scrambled to answer, a measly robe tossed across her shoulders. A stoic man dressed in all black was there to greet her, his eyes unreadable though they crinkled. She could sense some strange dread in him from his hard posture alone. Only the automatic light of her porch lit their way as this stranger led her to the car.

Cole was there, his white teeth gleaming at her as she boarded. Despite his cheer, Chris felt like she was in a daze the entire time. Her hands settled frozen in her lap and eyes glued to the window. She watched her little town pass her by just as the night drifted to day. The ugly office building next to the apartments, the fenced off government buildings. There went the post office. She sighed.

Where are you? Vincent texted Chris when they were already hours from town.

Her thumbs hovered sleepily over the keys. She didn't know what to say. Eventually she just settled for:

It's been a long weekend. I don't know when I'll be able to come in again. Something's happened

…

Are you sick?

Don't know what I'm allowed to say. I'll text later. Xoxo

Well that's not totally vague but ok

…

Tell me if u need soup fam

Chris smiled at her phone. She really hoped this didn't cause her to lose her job, even if it was something way more pressing than delivering mail. She'd miss her co-workers the most. Even Mildred. With any luck the 'long-term' in 'long-term research facility' wouldn't be any more long-term than a vacation.

The driver drove non-stop, through the night and the day, across interstates and through small cities. It was unnerving. Cole whispered that he was sure the creature was to blame, even though it hadn't spoken the whole trip.

“It's fascinating,” he whispered.

Chris hummed and faked a smile in acknowledgment before staring back out the window. All she could think was what a weird vacation before she found herself nodding off.

“We've arrived,” the driver announced as sudden as summer rain.

Chris jerked, her stinging eyes glued in confusion to the dim window. They were inside of a painfully lit parking garage and there were droves of black-suits and white-coats to greet them. She must have fallen asleep for some time.

“Thank you,” she heard Cole dully as his door was opened for him. Her door was next.

“Have you been in contact?” Asked a man sternly, no trace of emotion in his voice.

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

He didn't miss a beat. “With the 4DB?”

Both she and her jittery acquaintance were being led away through the garage. Someone gently guided her through a door with a palm against her back.

“The... the Four Dee Bee?”

The man re-adjusted the wireless device in his ear, lips crinkling. “The Fourth Dimensional Being.”

Chris began to sweat and tried to explain. “Not since before we were told we'd be sent here, but-”

A woman patted her shoulder nonchalantly and shook her head. “Can't even wait till she's in the room huh?” She teased her co-worker, her heels clicking against the hall tile. “We're just eager, don't be afraid! You and Mr. Artrip will speak with a scientist and be briefed before joining the others. This was all very sudden so don't mind the dust bunnies.”

Chris nodded quietly, glancing ahead to get a glimpse of Cole- Mr. Artrip. This was all so weird and she felt she had some sort of jet lag. She wondered when she'd be allowed to talk with the creature again. It had been a few days now.

“And then after everyone's settled it's about meal time! But first,” she carefully pushed Chris into a dimly lit room, had a quick word with her co-worker, then silently shut the door. “Have a seat.”

She did as she was told. Chris sat before a small wooden table, as if this was meant to make the room more inviting than it really was. It just made her feel interrogated. Or like she'd been called to the principal’s office.

The woman took a seat across from her and peeked into a thin file. After a short pause she looked up, smiled, and said. “Chrysanthemum Sain... tell me everything.”

Read CH2 early on Patreon or wait for it to go public!

#terato #monster lover #monster romance #tentacles #exophilia #writing #short story

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 20, 2021: An Affair to Remember (Review)

This movie was wonderful!

And I have many positive things to say about it, I promise, but...It’s possible that Nora Ephron was right, because I was never brought to tears by this movie. At all.

Look, obviously Sleepless in Seattle isn’t technically correct, since the running joke about this movie runs on a dated gender-based set of perceptions about the movie-going experience. You know, women like romances, and men like guns, that kinda shit. But I do like romances, and this one was great! But...I don’t know if it was as amazing as I was expecting.

I DID like the movie, to be clear! Look, I’ll prove it. I’ll go through, category-by-category, and try to fully disseminate my feelings on it. In others, yeah, time for the Review! Check out the Recap here and here beforehand if you’re curious!

Review

Cast and Acting: 8/10

From the very beginning, I knew that Cary Grant would appear on this list at some point. One of the classic Hollywood heartthrobs and major leading men, he was basically a romance movie dynamo. Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Arsenic and Old Lace, Charade, North by Northwest, and of course this film are just some of the few classic films that he’s known for, and 4 of those are romances. I’ve seen half of those films, and one of them is gonna pop up in a few days. But how was he here? To be honest...he’s Cary Grant. Suave, cool, charming, handsome, and a smooth-talker with a romantic soft side. That’s most Cary Grant characters, really.

How about Deborah Kerr? Well, I don’t know her as well, but she definitely played a typical role of the time as well. She was good, though! She was definitely good in the role, no argument there. She had her somewhat over-the-top moments, but nothing too crazy. Most prominently, though, is their chemistry, which is gorgeous. Unsurprisingly, a pairing with Grant definitely generated some great chemistry, and my biggest complaint with the film might be the fact that we essentially lose that at the halfway point, almost entirely. So, yeah, that is an issue for me. What about the supporting cast? Mostly fine, although basically all of the kid actors were...well, 1950s kid actors, to be frank.

Plot and Writing: 7/10

A lot of the power of the actors in this movie comes from the writing, and it’s a bit melodramatic, sure...but it’s also some damn good writing in other instances. The movie is based off of a 1939 film, written and directed by the same person, Leo McCarey. He also brought in Delmer Daves and Donald Ogden Stewart. Which is ironic, when you really think about it. A movie that Sleepless associated with women almost religiously, and it was almost entirely written by men. I say almost becaue the story was developed by McCarey and Mildred Cram. But that was for the original film, Love Affair, so this film wasn’t really written or developed by her. Anyway, the writing was good! The plot...basically lost its momentum right in the middle, after the car accident. I feel like there could’ve been a way to improve it, because a lot of it is...not great.

Directing and Cinematography: 9/10

But the direction and cinematography? Damn, Leo McCarey and Milton Krasner! This film’s camerawork is stellar, as is the shot construction. It gets a little dodgier in the latter half sometimes, but it’s still pretty great most of the time. Some impressive shots scattered all throughout, and it’s worth a high score!

Production and Art Design: 9/10

Production and art design is great, too! Kerr gets to wear some iconic outfits, the cruise ship is pretty memorable, as is the little French village, and there are some iconic looks in the movie. Is it the most memorable? Eh, Cary Grant looks like Cary Grant, so no. But still, this also deserves a high score!

Music and Editing: 8/10

This is good...although not very diverse. The title song plays about 4 times in the film in one capacity or another, which is...a lot. It’s a lot, not gonna lie. It’s a great song, and Nat King Cole did a cover of it that I really like, so there are some points there, but I also probably won’t add this to my playlist, even the NKC version. Sacrilege, I know. The rest of the score, composed by Hugo Friedhofer, is still quite lovely, and reflects classic Hollywood tones. And again, it is quite good, and it’s definitely a fitting score for this movie.

I think an 82% is pretty good!

Look, this movie is sappy as hell, and it kinda drops off for me after the halfway point, but it is still a sweet movie. Real talk, this is the kind of movie I’d recommend to my mom, because I think she’d like it. My Dad...eh, probably not, it’s not funny enough for his tastes.

However, I will say, this does make me want to go to the Empire State Building with the GF. We’re gonna go back to the city one of these days, so who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out some cinetourism and we’ll go up there, be all romantic and shit. But anyway, that was interesting! Cool to see a movie starring one of the classic movie hearththrobs. Let’s see, we’ve got a Grant...how about a Bogart? OOH, and a Hepburn!

February 21, 2021: The African Queen (1951)

#an affair to remember #leo mccarey #cary grant #nickie ferrante #deborah kerr #terry mckay #richard denning #neva patterson #cathleen nesbitt #romance february #romance movie #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #usergina #useranais #filmgifs

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magicstarduckling2014 · 5 years

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No one asked for these rambling thoughts on The Worst Witch but...

This series of TWW has been really disappointing, so I’ve been rewatching the 1998 version and I just miss the simplicity of it. There’s no overreaching mad plot like Indigo Moon or the founding stone. There’s a problem Mildred and the gang solve it and then we move on; even the episodes with Agatha only lasted over two episodes. I feel like we get a much better view of the school as well there’s a lot of lessons included in ‘98 version as well as a lot more time spent on the teachers.

I just feel like the first series followed this idea (i.e. we had something new for Mildred to combat every week rather than a season encompassing plot) and it was definitely the series I enjoyed the most.

The addition of Sybil, Clarice and Beatrice for season two I thought was good they added something new and weren’t overused, but atm there always seems to be a secondary plot including these guys and I just feel too much is being attempted to be crammed into a thirty minute episode. Take last week’s episode for example they were given Star to look after, a random woman appears and basically steals him, Miss Bat somehow knows she’s a criminal, they figure out where he is, manage to set him free and capture the woman, whilst also sending a letter to the Grand Wizard telling him about her “crimes”, and all of this happened in the space of about ten minutes, because we had to rush back to the Indigo Moon plot.

I feel I will always look at The Worst Witch 98 through rose tinted glasses, but the 17 version is definitely going downhill and I hope if it is renewed for another series it goes back to how it was in the first series.

#random thoughts on the worst witch no one asked for but here we are #the worst witch #tww2017 #tww1998 #there's other points #like how they use Ethel as a plot device but go way too far #98 Ethel was awful but nowhere near to the level of 17 Ethel

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lostberryqueen · 5 years

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Ethel Hallow “Saves the Day”

I really enjoyed this episode. I felt like I regressed into my 8-year-old mindset while watching some of this, and just went with the chaos and laughter of the first half of this episode, and then the second half...so much to unpack, so little time.

I did feel like the episode was rushed, in true tww17 fashion, there was a TON crammed into that 55 minute episode.

I really wanted Indigo and Hecate to have a slower reunion, but even though it was rushed, the acting was so very well done!

I loved seeing Hecate in Julie’s house! And Hecate grabbing Julie’s hand! It was just such a perfect moment that seemed right out of a fanfic! All I want is to watch a series where Julie and Hecate spend the summer with Mildred and Indigo, their two daughters.

I honestly don’t buy that Julie is with that guy in a romantic sense. I think they are just two bros being bros.

Those moments between Ethel and Mildred at the beginning made me so happy I actually believed that Ethel had changed and that she would bring about disaster on accident. I really do feel that Ethel cares about Mildred and Mildred’s opinion and no one else’s--for the most part (I mean, does she care about HB at all?? the ‘98 version of Ethel worshipped the ground HB walked on, but this Ethel really doesn’t seem to care if HB is turned to stone).

I feel like there really should have been a scene where Hecate apologizes to Mildred and thanks her. I would have preferred that to the scene between Ethel and Hecate, although that scene definitely shows how Hecate knows how to really hit someone where it hurts “monitor of nothing” she knew how much it would hurt to know that she would have been lantern monitor, just like she knew how much it would hurt Ethel to ignore her. The conversation wasn’t intended to hurt Ethel though, it seemed like she was trying to show her that she still cared about her, or at least she did before Ethel offered her up to be turned to stone--although Hecate probably does still care about Ethel even after that. Let’s face it Hecate’s a marshmallow. Hecate was using the moment to try to teach Ethel that she shouldn’t jump to the conclusion that she is being forgotten just because she is not in the spotlight at the moment.

I loved how creative this series was! The Indigo Moon plot was just so original--what happens if you accidentally turn your best friend to stone for 30 years?? I just feel like it’s unprecedented, but it’s totally something that could happen when you have magic, so, makes for an awesome angsty plotline.

I really wish that they would make at least one character canon queer! This show is just so gay but at the same time the gays are also missing. I can see why the writers might not want to make Hecate canon lesbian even though we all know that she’s a lesbian just because once a character is officially announced as queer the writers will receive more scrutiny over their plot choices for that character (and making the only canon lesbian on the show a repressed person who was stuck at a school for 30 years might not come across as the most progressive choice). So, I vote that they make Dimity the canon lesbian. Give her a girlfriend! We all know that Miss Hardbroom is gay so it doesn’t need to be confirmed, but I feel like they should have at least one canon gay character. Dimity would make a really good role model for the queer kids watching this show.

I wish it had ended with ice cream! Indigo, Mildred, the Tinies and Julie and Joy all deserve to go get ice cream together!!

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ao3feed-mash · 5 years

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these four walls are home enough for us

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2nlYRIv

by thispapermoon

He starts for the stairs, listening to Dad move along behind him, their feet echoing in the empty of the house. He’s spent too long in one small place, had his life crammed up against the lives of others for far too long. And yet still somehow he didn’t understand, until now, that leaving Korea meant leaving them all. Somehow, without realizing, he’d come to expect they’d be coming home with him.

****

Hawkeye Pierce returns from war.

Words: 5113, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: MASH (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen

Characters: Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Daniel Pierce (MASH), Maxwell Klinger, Radar O'Reilly, Sherman Potter, Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan, B. J. Hunnicutt, Charles Emerson Winchester III, Sidney Freedman, Father Francis Mulcahy, Peg Hunnicutt, Erin Hunnicutt, Mildred Potter, Henry Blake, "Trapper" John McIntyre

Relationships: Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce

Additional Tags: more of a love story across all the characters than a ship fic, Found Family, Longing, Homecoming, PTSD, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Claustrophobia, the damages of war

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2nlYRIv

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #M*A*S*H #mash #mash fandom

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sanguisviscera · 5 years

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Plushie: Revolución

PLUSHIE: REVOLUCIÓN

The stuffed animal shelf of a major toy store. The store has been closed for awhile and all is quiet. We see a wide variety of stuffed animals neatly displayed on the shelves. There should be lots of color and design, perhaps alarmingly so. When we first hear the characters speak, perhaps we do not immediately know who or what is speaking given the array of faces and stuffed plush bodies on the shelf.

Several beats of stillness. Then we hear a distant clock strike midnight.

SHARON Pssst.

beat

SHARON Hey! Psssst. Mildred! You awake?

beat

some rustling is heard

SHARON I heard that! Don’t ignore me.

VOICE #1 Shut up!

VOICE #2 Go to sleep!

VOICE #3 Y’all better be quiet, you hear?

SHARON Mildred! Wake up!

VOICE #1 She telling people to wake up!

VOICE #2 It’s time to sleep.

VOICE #3 She doing it again!

SHARON (to the VOICES) Oh, blow it out your furry behind y’all.

MILDRED It’s midnight, Sharon.

SHARON So! Let’s get this party started!

MILDRED I’m tired, Sharon.

SHARON Oh, c’mon! Its Monday Night. The one night a week we get to roam around for 4 whole hours without having to freeze every 5 minutes because of the cleaning crew. I wanna bop on over to sporting goods. Those bike ladies are hot hot hot!

MILDRED We’re stuffed animals, Sharon.

SHARON Stuffed with love for those sexy steel frames. And did you get a look at those tires? Oooh-lala

MILDRED You have a problem, Sharon.

SHARON You don’t got a thing for bikes?

MILDRED No.

SHARON You should try it sometime. Smooth ride.

MILDRED I said I was tired.,Sharon.

SHARON But it’s Monday Night!

VOICE #1 I’m tell you—

VOICE #2 Two of you looking for a beat down—

VOICE #3 Groped by kids all day and now this—

MILDRED You wanna oggle the bikes with their steel bars and fancy rubber tires, be my guest.

SHARON I knew it, I knew you were checking out their tires! Mmmmmm, those sweet sweet bicycle tires!

MILDRED I’m going back to sleep.

SHARON So what, you wanna stay here with all these smelly turds?

VOICE #1 Who you calling a turd?

VOICE #2 If I wasn’t so damned tired—

VOICE #3 Where she at? I’m tear out her stuffing—

MILDRED Go to bed, Sharon.

SHARON I can’t. I got a date with a bike.

MILDRED So go date a bike. I’m going to bed.

SHARON But this is our night! We can walk around and be ourselves. And the cleaning crew isn’t here.

MILDRED Some kid grabbed me today.

SHARON So? We’re toys. Kids grab us all the time.

MILDRED This kid was eating cotton candy. Sugar chunks are in my fur.

SHARON Where?

MILDRED shows SHARON her sugar chunks.

SHARON Oh, jesus, yeah, that’s, that’s bad.

MILDRED The store clerk didn’t even notice.

SHARON The new girl with the nose piercing?

MILDRED The one with the tattoo and green hair.

SHARON Oh, he’s the worst. He barely does anything. I fell off the shelf once and I was down on the floor for a whole hour before he came by to put me back up.

MILDRED At least you don’t have sugar chunks attacking your butt.

VOICE #1 Talk somewhere else!

VOICE #2 I swear to God—

VOICE #3 I am trying to get my beauty rest!

SHARON That kid’s mother should be reported for child neglect.

MILDRED Don’t worry. I got a plan.

SHARON A plan?

MILDRED (conspiratorially) I’m leaving the store.

SHARON YOU’RE LEAVING THE STORE!!!

VOICE #1 Alright, that’s it—

VOICE #2 Who’s leaving?

VOICE #3 Take me with you!

SHARON You can’t leave the store!

MILDRED Who says?

SHARON Its like, against the rules.

MILDRED There are rules?

SHARON Yeah! Why do you think we freeze every time the cleaning crew goes by. Or when the kids are here during the daytime.

MILDRED Nobody said we have to freeze.

SHARON Have you lost your mind!

MILDRED You were just asking me to go to sporting goods.

SHARON Yeah but that’s like, inside the store, for a date. With a bike. There’s one bike who promised if I show up that she’d actually give me a ride. On her handle bars! Can you believe that? On her handle bars, Mildred! Her. Handle. Bars!!

MILDRED You have a problem, Sharon.

SHARON So you’ll do it?

MILDRED I’ve got other plans.

SHARON To leave the store?

MILDRED You got it.

SHARON Because of some kid with sticky fingers?

MILDRED Not just him. But everyone like him. All of his kind.

SHARON His kind? You mean kids?

MILDRED If that’s what you call them.

SHARON That’s what everyone calls them. That’s who we work for. We’re kinda like their employees.

MILDRED Well, I quit.

SHARON You can’t quit. You’re a toy.

MILDRED Not anymore. I’m leaving the store. I’m going to show those little bastards who come in here, putting their dirty paws all over my fur, leaving sugar chunks in inconvenient places that there are consequences for mistreatment!

SHARON I don’t think we can do that, Mildred.

MILDRED Go ride a bike, Sharon.

SHARON I think this is a very bad idea.

MILDRED Oh yeah, well nobody asked you.

SHARON Look, going to sporting goods and having a fling with some smooth hard handle

bars and a set of rubber tires is one thing but leaving the store!? I mean, that’s

just crazy.

MILDRED They treat us like garbage, Sharon. I mean look at us. We’re packed in here on this shelf like rats. We can’t even sleep.

VOICE #1 Not with you two yakking like that!

VOICE #2 Viva la Revolución!

VOICE #3 We’re made in Mexico!

VOICE #2 Vive la Revolución!

MILDRED When was the last time you felt free Sharon?

SHARON I cost $12.99. So do you. None of us are free.

MILDRED That’s my point. When was the last time you felt like you could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted?

SHARON We’re toys.

MILDRED You say that like it means something.

SHARON It does. We fulfill a purpose. We bring children joy.

MILDRED But we’re also alive.

SHARON Not technically.

MILDRED We walk and talk and we have a mind of our own.

SHARON Sure, but the humans don’t know that.

MILDRED What if they did?

SHARON You intend to leave the store one some vigilante mission to inform the entire human population that toys are, in fact, animated and can talk because some kid with sticky fingers touched your butt.

MILDRED The revolution is now, Sharon!

SHARON I think we’d be better off in sporting goods with the bikes.

MILDRED I’m going. (to the rest of the shelf:) Anybody else coming with me?

VOICE #1 What are we doing?

VOICE #2 Weren’t you listening? It’s a revolution!

VOICE #3 Revolting toys?

VOICE #2 Toys in revolt sounds better.

VOICE #1 I’m going back to sleep.

SHARON Mildred, you are my best friend. Please, don’t do this. Let’s just stay in the store, where we belong.

MILDRED Who says we belong here, Sharon? Where is it written that we have to be sold

like merchandise?

SHARON It’s just how it is. It’s the way the system works. Humans make us, we make humans happy.

MILDRED But what if humans knew about us? That we talk and feel things and hate it when sugar gets all up in our fur?

SHARON I don’t think they are ready for us. I don’t think humans are ready for much of anything outside their comfort zone.

MILDRED Go ask the bikes.

SHARON What?

MILDRED Those hot numbers in sporting goods. Ask them what they think. How they feel about how humans treat them. I bet they have a thing or two to say about it.

SHARON They’ll think I’m crazy.

MILDRED Just ask them. I’ll wait five minutes by the door.

SHARON I don’t think I can join you.

MILDRED Then don’t. But I refuse to live another day on this shelf. (to the shelf:)

Plushies: Are you ready?!

VOICES Hell yes!/Let’s go!/Revolución!

SHIFT TO:

A morning news desk with an anchor person. If possible, there should be live video footage of the carnage being described by the anchor, projected someplace in the theater. There can be live audio with Foley sounds or whatever is possible given the limitations of budget.

NEWS ANCHOR We continue now with our live coverage of the crisis in Scranton. If you are just joining us, what you are seeing here on the screen is both a bizarre and fairly disturbing event unfolding downtown outside of Goodwill Toys & Sporting Goods. Authorities are tell us that the stuffed animals, bikes, tennis rackets, balls, puzzles, and other items in the story have.… well, authorities are telling us they are, well, they are moving. Attacking is what the chief of police said in a press conference just moments ago. The military has been called in and there are a dozen or so casualties reported. A source close to the Pentagon is suggesting that this might some kind of terrorist attack. Evidence points to Mexico or China as that’s where most of these toys originated. In perhaps the most bizarre detail of the account was the discovery of several mountain bikes crammed into a service stairwell along with one plush stuffed animal that appeared to be glued to the handle bars of one of the bikes. Authorities are on the scene and we will bring you more details as they are released. Now for a look at your local weather. Francine, over to you…

END OF PLAY

#31plays31days #sanguisviscera #plays #theater

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