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sophiasharp · 3 years

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Well this is barely coming out before the new killer is released and this entire thing is deemed irrelevant, but at least it’s done! I don’t remember who it was and I don’t have the post saved, but before we had confirmation of who the killer was for A Binding of Kin, someone suggested that it may be the Witch from L4D. I can’t tell you why, but for some reason that idea and what that would mean for Bill just possessed me. I wrote the majority of this in one day and then just let it sit unfinished for a few months until I had the time and mental capacity to finish it, and then spent even more time putting off editing it, but at least it’s here now. Quick disclaimer, I haven’t personally played the original L4D or its sequel, nor have I read the comics, all the stuff I wrote about lore-wise was based off of the info in the fandom wiki. Also, I wrote this in second person? For some reason? Idk why it just seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway:

Retrieved

Tw: cannon typical violence, blood, gore, cannon typical minor character death, foul language, possibly ooc character interactions but I tried my best.

Your name is William Overbeck, Bill to your friends. About three years ago, you gave your life starting up a faulty generator so that your friends, you family, could escape to safety from a mindless horde of monsters. That should have been the end for you, but… it wasn’t. Instead, you woke up to new people, new faces for you to protect while living in a brand-new endless hell. Well, no, actually. Some of the others here call it hell, but that’s not really what this is. Hell was where you came from, where the world was slowly being wiped out by a plague that turned innocent people into walking nightmares. Hell was what you left behind to save the people you care about. Hell isn’t here. This place, even with its endless, repetitive death, could never match what you went through back there. And in some twisted way, you’re thankful for that. Knowing that you’ve already been through worse brings a sick sort of comfort with it. The worst is already behind you, it can’t hurt you again, and if this monotonous void of death was what it cost of what little you cared about in that world being kept safe? So be it.

… until.

It was a day like any other in the fog. People congregated around the campfire in different groups, talking and bantering amongst each other, when suddenly you felt a telltale shiver go down your back. The call for a trial. You look around you to see the others you’d be taking the trial with. Dwight’s eyes are wide and looking around, so safe to guess he’s coming. Kate gets up off her log and does the same cursory sweep of the campfire as they did. The odd thing is that that’s it. There’s no one else. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself. Only three people being called can only mean one thing: there’s someone new that’s been brought to the realm, likely along with a whole new horror show to accompany them, and you happen to be the lucky few chosen to greet them. You suppose it has been a while since the newest girl showed up, that Rakoto woman, and that you all were due for a shake-up in the formula. Feeling the sneaking suspicion that things wouldn’t go as smoothly as one would hope- trials with new people never do- you go over to your personal pile of supplies and take out a skeleton key, a gold token, and some blood amber. If you’re lucky you won’t need to use it, but something tells you this isn’t gonna be a lucky trial. You only have a few extra seconds to burn some bloody party streamers before your vision begins to fade, your body becomes less and less corporeal, and you’re taken off to the trial.

The trial grounds are new, but somehow not as new as they should be. It’s a heavy forest, common trend in the Entity’s Realm, but there’s something familiar about it. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? No, no you can’t have, you’re imagining things. What you aren’t imaging is what looks to be the remains of a small camp tucked to the side near the trial walls. Upon further investigation, you find a pile full of several different types of ammo, some medical supplies which you doubt could be of any use anymore, and a baseball bat. You pick it up and it’s strange how eerily comfortable it feels in your hands. Testing its strength, you strike it against the nearest tree. It promptly shatters. Of course the Entity would never let the survivors get any such advantage over the killer.

You keep walking around the new realm, still no sign of what fresh new horror you’ve been stuck with yet. It puts you on edge. Finally, you find Dwight on a generator, already a good way through in progress. You ask if he’s seen anyone yet, he hasn’t. You join him on the generator and finish it quickly. The two of you go forward and continue to explore the new environment. You take out the key and try to sense anyone or anything else, but nothing. Eventually you and Dwight find a set of railroad tracks, which you follow to the center of the map. An abandoned train station greets you there, and once again a foreboding sense of deja vu tingles at the back of your head. Finding a generator in one of the decrepit rooms the station offered, along with another pile of miscellaneous ammo, you and Dwight begin work again. It’s when you get about halfway through that relative silence is pierced by an ear splitting screech. You feel the atmosphere grow denser, a sign that someone has been injured. You’re not paying attention to that though. You’ve suddenly been taken out of the trial entirely as your mind brings you back to your old life and your old friends.

You remember now, the four of you had come to this station after the military camp you’d found was overrun by infected. This was where the line ended. There had been a doctor with you, but he hadn’t made it. After some tense debate, you’d all decided to try your luck finding a boat and waiting out the apocalypse on a deserted island. It was that decision that led the team to finding an abandoned boat, hoping to find a way off the mainland, only to be confronted by the shrill cries of a horde of-

The sound of Kate falling to the ground takes you out of your stupor. No. That’s not what this place is. That’s not who you heard. You’re just imagining things. Get ahold of yourself and focus. Your teammates need you.

It doesn’t take long for Kate’s voice to once again echo throughout the station, her aura contracting in pain before hanging limp on a meat hook. You decide to go get her off and leave Dwight to finish the gen. You’re beaten to it, however, when you’re about halfway to her. You think for a second that Dwight abandoned the generator, but just as you do the machine you both had worked on sounds off in the distance. That leaves only the new guy. Whoever they are, it’s good to know they’re the more altruistic type. Your heart sinks as you hear the same nauseating scream from earlier and the air grows heavier with another injury: Dwight, probably. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long for the leader’s scream to echo and even less for his body to be left hanging on a hook. He’s closer by this time, so you double back and makes your way over. On your way you hear no telltale heartbeat but instead the faint sounds of mournful weeping in the distance. Once again, you’re shaken by the familiarity of the sound, that night on the boat once again surfacing in your memory, but you shake it off. That’s not it. That can’t be it. Maybe all this time living in constant abject horror is finally getting to you. Either way, you’re just getting sidetracked. Stay on task. Get Dwight, finish the gens, get out.

You finally make it to the leader, the coast seemingly clear, and with a grunt you manage to take the young man off of the wicked curve of metal before the mandibles of their captor could fully appear. Bandaging his wounds, you try to ask what the killer was, what they looked like, anything, but your questions were left unanswered by your companion who in fact didn’t even hear your question. A killer leaving a survivor deaf wasn’t completely unheard of, sometimes the Hag could put that effect on her traps and recently the Cannibal learned how to do the same when throwing a survivor to the ground, even sharing how to do it with other killers. But this killer just got here. They can’t have had time to learn how to do that yet. This must be a more innate ability then; perhaps something to do with the screams?

After you finish bandaging his wounds, Dwight scurries off elsewhere to keep looking for a gen, or maybe even the new survivor. You don’t really know. Either way, you continue searching around the place, and eventually find a new generator and start work on it. In the distance, a different generator goes off. Good. Just two more to go then. We can do this. That small bit of hope is dashed when once again you feel more survivors get injured, two in succession. They must have been working together. As you’re working, you begin to once again hear familiar cries, this time of rage and fury rather than mourning. You want desperately to shrug it off, but you can hear it coming closer, the killer’s heartbeat beginning to sound, and to your right you find Kate running desperately in your direction, trying and failing to lead whatever the monster is off her trail. You dive behind the tree your generator was next to and just as you’re trying to figure out what to do, you hear the singer go down mere meters away from you. The sounds the creature emits turning back into sobbing for just a second. It’s not picking her up. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and look around the corner of the tree to face whatever creature was waiting there, and your heart stops.

The gaunt, gangly frame of what used to be a woman stands over Kate’s groaning form on the ground. Pale blonde hair, leathery white skin, sunken eyes, and blood-stained, wicked claws where hands probably used to be combined with its downright pitiful crying make the thing utterly unmistakable for anything else. Three whole years after first coming to this God-forsaken place, you were once again confronted by a Witch.

It doesn’t take long for you to find out why it’s leaving Kate on the ground. Once again raising its voice in rage, it lunges onto the young woman, not unlike what the Hag might do, only now it mounts on top of her form in a very familiar display, thrashing and clawing at Kate’s torso, rendering it nothing more than an unrecognizable mess of blood and flesh. While it’s distracted, you opt to flee before it has the chance to notice your presence. A mori on its first day in the realm. Not completely unheard of, especially with killers that had a background with their accompanying survivor, but still not a good sign. It was more than likely that if he were to be caught again, Dwight would be a goner. Looks like the key you brought would be coming in handy after all.

After waiting for the Witch to abandon the area you’d been working in, you come back to the gen and try to make up for lost progress. You make it about halfway through when you feel another survivor get injured, and only a few seconds later you hear someone go down. It’s a woman’s voice. One you could have sworn you remembered. ‘No, it’s not her,’ you try to reason with yourself. She’s still back home with the others. Maybe watching the world burn from the safety of an island, maybe still looking for a place to live in peace, maybe already dead in a ditch from infected, the point is that she can’t be here. However, as your mind is racing, an agonized scream cuts through the air, one you can no longer deny you’ve heard before, long before you ended up here. You don’t waste any more time with the generator, leaving it for Dwight to maybe find, you beeline for where you see the aura of her body hanging across the map. Why is she here? How is this possible? Why now? Couldn’t the Entity have been satisfied with just you? Questions are swarming around in your head but eventually they all fall flat as you make it to the hook and you see her. Same red track suit, same brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, same jeans coated in dirt, same beat to shit sneakers. It was unmistakable that the young woman hanging in front of him was none other than Zoey.

Her eyes were screwed closed in pain, soft groans and grunts of pain slipping out. There’s a long gash across her torso and you really wish you could have just ten minutes where everything in your life wasn’t crashing spectacularly together, maybe give you a minute to collect yourself before it all comes crumbling down around you, but it occurs to you once again that you don’t have time for that now. You’re stuck in what now might as well be hell, one of your teammates was slashed to bits by a monster you thought you’d left behind and who was once your closest companion, practically a daughter to you, is now hanging from a meat hook and by God you cannot let her die there. You faced hell once before, you can do it again. With clarity you haven’t had since this nightmare of a trial began, you run up to the hook and hoist Zoey off the jagged, rusted metal and back onto the ground. For the first time since you’ve found her, Zoey opens her eyes. “Jesus, what the hell was- “And she finally looks up at you. Her eyes widen and for a moment she just stares before pushing you away and scrambling back, still clutching her bleeding shoulder. “No. No! Stay away from me!”

“Calm down, she’ll hear us, remember?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you get away from me!

“You’re bleeding out, we need to get you out of here before- “

“I said get away from me! I don’t know who you think you are but you have some nerve trying to use him to get to me.”

“Zoey, what the hell, you have to let me help you-”

“Screw you, you’re not him, you’re just some weird imposter, as weird as everything else has been in this place!

“I know this is confusing, but you have to listen- “

“Are you deaf? Leave me alone! He’s dead. He’s dead and gone and you have no right to try to talk to me like you’re him because you’ll never be half the man he was- “

You’ve had enough of her rambling, you’re wasting too much time as is and it’s already so much to handle, so finally you just walk up to her and hug her. She tries to bat you away, but it’s only halfhearted and eventually she sinks into your arms and starts crying. You try your best not to break down as well. The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other. Finally, Zoey calms down enough to talk and sniffles out a shaky “You should be dead.” You nod your head “I know, I should be, I don’t know why I’m here either, and I wish you didn’t have to be here with me.” She looks up at you. “Where the hell are we anyway?” You struggle to answer, but while you do you hear Dwight go down in the distance. Shit, you hadn’t even noticed he was injured. You take your companion’s wrist and start marching away from the hook the two of you were still nearby. “I can’t explain now. We’re running out of time. Let me see your shoulder, and stay close.” She nods reluctantly. Soon after you finish tending to her wounds, you hear your bespectacled friend’s pained screaming in the distance until the air goes quiet once again and the death is felt in the air. Zoey tries to give some sort of condolence, but you stop her midway. “He’ll be fine.” You say. She looks at you incredulously. “Death doesn’t really stick around here, not in the same way it didn’t back home though so I count my blessings. I’ll show you when we get back to camp, but for now just keep your mouth shut until you see a big metal hatch sticking out where it wasn’t before.” Her eyes widen, eyebrows rising up her forehead, still not entirely believing what you were saying, but as you began to walk away, she quickly followed behind nonetheless.

By some stroke of luck, you managed to find the hatch not long after. You opened the hatch and, after proving that it was safe- or at least safer than staying with the Witch -brought Zoey through the tunnel and back to the campfire. The young woman wasn’t entirely convinced by Dwight’s introduction to the realm. You couldn’t blame her; even now it was hard to process that she was really here. But still, being there to introduce her to the group, help explain the new odds she would be fighting, even just her being there made you feel something, a mix of things really. Something in between outrage, sorrow, denial, relief, comfort, but above all else, determination. Until now, you’ve been borderline content where you’ve been. You’d accepted your fate, almost. You still fought like hell every damn day, of course you did, but just surviving was getting too easy. You’d nearly forgotten that escape was an option, even if no one was certain it was even possible. But you remembered now. You have people to save, not just from the everyday threat of death, but from this entire hell hole. You have a future to work towards, one that doesn’t involve living under the tendrils of an overpowered spider. For your sake, and the sake of your friends, old and new. You refuse to let them be left behind.

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hgfstreamchats · 3 years

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Alien

highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:43 PM Well, how is everyone else's evening treating them so far? Also, how is the picture, the audio? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:44 PM Not too horribly. Audio is good, picture seems fairly good. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:44 PM That's something. There we go. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:46 PM Perfect. I think a little horror is a good compliment to today. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:47 PM Agreed. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:47 PM You yourself are doing well? highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:47 PM Never peachier. You? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:48 PM As well as can be expected. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:48 PM I think we're all in the same boat. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:48 PM So it seems.

How fortunate that we can traverse space without the horrible space garments. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:51 PM In the comfort of knowing organic parasites want nothing to do with us. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:52 PM Though it might be interesting to encounter one, one day. Just to see how they react to a species they cannot eat nor inhabit. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:54 PM You just know there's someone out there who'd leap at the chance to keep a few as pets. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:55 PM I feel as though I know several Soundwaves who would deeply enjoy keeping them. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:56 PM Soundwaves are to xenomorphs as variants of me are to automobiles. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:57 PM There are worse things to enjoy, I suppose. They take up less room than Shockwave's drillers. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:57 PM Better personalities, too. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:57 PM Indeed... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:58 PM I always forget how slowly this movie begins. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:59 PM Yes, quite a bit more scene setting than the subsequent ones. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:01 PM Yes, we certainly are in space. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:01 PM Their drop ship is pretty delicate if they cannot land in a wind without getting a hull breech. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:02 PM Isn't it though? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:04 PM Ah yes, their very futuristic readouts that make absolutely no sense at all. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:05 PM I love human notions of how space works. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:08 PM It's remarkably silly. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:09 PM "Let's walk heedlessly onto it." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:09 PM Even without knowing that the ship is full of parasites, they should probably know better than to go in there. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:10 PM Always better to err on the side of caution and avoid ships surrounded by dramatic music and ominous mist. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:11 PM 'I don't know what it is, let's all crawl right in'. If they could have, the humans would have crawled right into the wreck of the Nemesis, I wager. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:12 PM And stood around gaping, slack-jawed. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:13 PM Poking at the dead. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:14 PM "Mangled corpses, warning signals? Let's not leave!" Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:15 PM No, they surely must investigate further! Curiousity never comes back to bite humans. Oh yes. Touch it. No one could have seen that coming. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:18 PM Shock. Shock. Aghast. There's no better time to take risks and indulge curiosities than the nakedness of space, with a damaged ship. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:19 PM The only one with sense. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:20 PM "We could all die." "That probably won't happen." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:21 PM They are not even trying to prevent catching every weird alien disease there might be. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:22 PM They're doing everything shy of licking it. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:23 PM If only this could have been prevented. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:25 PM If only, if only. If only there were some interval where someone might have made a different choice. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:27 PM Alas, there was nothing else that could have been done. They had to crawl into the derelict ship, and play with the room full of obviously dangerous eggs, and then break quarantine procedure. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:28 PM "Oh well, too late to pop him out the airlock now." "Also too late to freeze him. Quarantine him. Really, anything that might contain whatever's coming next." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:29 PM No no, they have to leave him out. Unattended. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:30 PM Unrestrained, obviously incubating something. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:31 PM Leave the door open while you look, that's always good form. No chance a creature could escape further into the ship. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:31 PM Might want to take all your guns and weapons and throw them into the waste disposal units, just for good measure. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:32 PM Because he knows so much about it, to know it's dead now. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:33 PM "Let's hover with our faces directly over it." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:34 PM I would be entirely unsurprised if they decided to lick it. For 'science'. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:34 PM Concurred. A very sensible suggestion, better to ignore it for the second time. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:37 PM If they don't ignore it, then more bad things cannot happen. And who wants that? Sure, let him cough on you. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:38 PM Cough on you, breathe on you, share food with you. Why not let him spit in your mouths just to see what will happen? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:39 PM And why not freeze him? From the perspective of the company who wants the xenomorph, it would be much neater if they froze him with the embryo, rather than lose the whole ship and payload, and still fail to get their prize. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:39 PM Listen I'm not subjecting myself to what would surely give me nightmares, but I need y'all to know that from where I sit it looks like you're discussing last year. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:40 PM We very well could be. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:40 PM ....or. at least. Where I am. I certainly hope you're not bothered with similar problems wherever you are. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:41 PM Of all the issues I am plagued with, fortunately respiratory viruses are not one of them. Or hostile aliens, as the case may be. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:42 PM None of the problems that plague organic chests. From viruses to this. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:42 PM Should we question why they have a cattle prod aboard their mining hauler? Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:50 PM ...Huh. I wonder if they're endangered. They certainly seem good at endangering jsjgjjsf Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:51 PM There was still a whole host of eggs back on the original ship. So, likely not endangered at this point. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Oh! There are eggs that don't need a host? Ohhhhhh wait Are the hosts like Incubators basically highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Exactly. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Yes, precisely. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Makes sense ....oh ew, now I'm thinking of that very specific wasp I had managed to block from my memory. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:53 PM Egg hatches facehugger that impregnates host that incubates tiny alien. That bursts out of chest. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:54 PM If I recall correctly, the shape of the host does influence the shape of the final creature. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:54 PM Okay, so is the facehugger, like, a separate living organism? Something in the egg that has only the purpose to leap, lay eggs, and die? Is that the baby parasite's true mother? It can't be, it was inside an egg with the baby... remind me not to become a xenobiologist, my head would explode. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:55 PM In a philosophical sense, maybe, but for all practical purposes the true mother is the creature that laid the eggs. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:56 PM I am still extremely baffled by the existence of this terrible turducken of eat-your-insides. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:56 PM Organic biology is messy like that. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:56 PM They can tell the difference between a host that's resisting and one that isn't. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Wh-- how do you resist THAT?? Do you mean the facehugger part, or the growing baby highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Facehugger. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Oh well yeah you can resist that Do they leave if you try to pull it off? highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:57 PM You can certainly try. No, they tighten their tails around the host's neck and if you try to cut them, they spray acidic blood every which way. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:58 PM They do not abandon an attempt at a host unless slain. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:58 PM And they're very strong. And fast. And if you manage to take out one, there's usually an entire room full of backup eggs. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:59 PM Well That's Gross. What does it matter if they can tell the difference between a resistant host and a (placid? dead?) one? Only that they won't spray things or tighten, or does it effect how they reproduce? ...I can see why most of them died tbh. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:59 PM They need the host alive. Otherwise it makes a poor incubator. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:00 PM So it's definitely a warmth thing then? Why exactly could they not just find somewhere warm that ISN'T a person Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:00 PM They do seem to have a preference for mammals as hosts... But the embryo is taking nutrients from the host body, as well as heat. A warm, moist room would not suffice. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:01 PM Ohhh... like... like an egg sac highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:01 PM The egg sac in this case is a live organic. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:02 PM As a live organic, I feel the only appropriate response to that is :( Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:02 PM Such is the nature of parasites. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:03 PM Fair Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:03 PM And you are unlikely to encounter this variety. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:03 PM Now I just need to avoid every variety in my vicinity, thank you very much highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:03 PM You don't have to worry about scraplets. It all balances out in the end. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:04 PM Ok GOOD POINT I can't imagine if termites liked to eat people. uggghh Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:04 PM In the interest of not traumatizing you, I will not elaborate on the many common parasitic species humans do encounter. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:05 PM We're all made of something someone eats. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:05 PM I'm aware of several and have had nightmares about nonexistent ones. That's mostly why I'm not actually watching this movie. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:05 PM And in the end, Unicron may get us all, metal or meat. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:06 PM Time to hang that on a wall at the newbuild complex. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:06 PM That's true... it's just that I might prefer to be eaten from the outside than the inside, if I had to choose... maybe. Which would be quicker? Do i really want to know? I'm sure there are ghost stories scarier than the passage of time and encroaching entropy. Maybe. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:08 PM It is usually the size of who is doing the eating that determines quickness, rather than the direction they eat you from. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:08 PM If I could get philosophical, most stories about immediate personal danger are more frightening to me, because then there's still things left to do, y'know? I'm leaving things behind if I go! If we're all going via Unicron, at least I know I made it as far as I could. Ahh, good point, good point. Though numbers do come into account. I've heard things about ants. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:10 PM ... Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:11 PM Waste of fuel and oxygen they cannot afford to spare. As for ants, much like scraplets, they are too small to efficiently eat you. Which is why it is unpleasant. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:12 PM It's the venom, too... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:12 PM At least scraplets in large numbers do the job quickly. No more than a few blindingly excruciating seconds. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:12 PM Ants would not. Thankfully they don't take on humans much. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:14 PM What little I have seen of scraplets, they did not do a quick enough job on a decently armored mech. If given the choice, I would prefer something quicker. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:14 PM Understandable Hey how bad are the humans onscreen screwing up? Or are they mostly dead by now Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:15 PM There are only three left, one is looking for a cat, and the other two are making enough racket to attract any predator on the ship. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:16 PM Oh, I've heard about the cat! Glad it didn't get facehugged highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:16 PM It's the survivors of scraplet attacks that keep me up at night. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:17 PM ... Yes, just stand there while it menaces you. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:17 PM Lot of standing still and letting things happen in this movie. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:17 PM .....I get the feeling they're, ah. Not all there. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Well, now they are there... and there, and over there... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Hah! Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:18 PM I want to laugh but I feel like that would be mean of me:laughing: Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Ah, but it is fun to be mean. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:19 PM Well, whatever floats your goat *boat Please don't float any goats Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:20 PM I will not make a habit of it. And of course the cat is unafraid of it. Their ship is just the worst. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:23 PM If the creature didn't get it, something else would have. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:26 PM One minute for pre-flight systems checks... That would be pushing it. If only their space ships did not include so much tubing, the creatures would not be able to so easily hide. Pity she would immediately be suspected of murdering everyone on board, and blowing the main ship to cover her actions. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:38 PM And the company would be only too eager to push this narrative. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:38 PM Of course! Now then, what horror of gaming do you have in mind? How every automobile drive goes. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:44 PM Every automobile drive worth having. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:47 PM Glorious. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:50 PM I tried joining-- is the sound skippy/staticky to you, or is that on my end? I believe Discord calls on my phone have given me trouble before, so I have a hunch it's on my end. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:52 PM The sound is fine for me. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:52 PM ...and now I have almost no sound at all oh no:joy: Ah, well. I tried. It was fun to be here in text form, anyway :blush: Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:55 PM Mammal liquid... Jazz blend... Oh dear. I cannot have a stroke.. but I feel like these commercials are what having a stroke is like. highglossfinish — Today at 12:00 AM It certainly is a feeling. Of some description. And that's all I've got for tonight. Starscreamapillar — Today at 12:01 AM Thank you for the high quality entertainment Knock Out. I always enjoy the nonsense and Bad Decisions you choose to stream. highglossfinish — Today at 12:01 AM And you always make them enjoyable/bearable! Starscreamapillar — Today at 12:02 AM Until next time, farewell! highglossfinish — Today at 12:02 AM Farewell and good night! Sharpwing — Today at 12:04 AM Goodnight! I hope the future treats you both gently♡ highglossfinish — Today at 12:04 AM Here's to that.

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taradiddled · 4 years

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For anyone wondering who Julia is, she was originally the story of The Snow Queen, a story Hans wrote and had published to spite Elsa. Hans did this at the encouragement of his father’s adviser, Valter, who, SURPRISE, turns out to be an evil magician who belongs to a family of magic. Coincidentally, that family has a history of particularly bad blood with the royal family of the Southern Isles.

Valter’s magic feeds on emotion, and the negativity that practically DROWNS the Westergaard family is absolutely delicious to Valter’s magic, but it is Hans’s anger and misery that Valter finds the most delectable, so keeping Hans’s bitterness thriving becomes key in Valter’s schemes. Basically, the more miserable Hans becomes/stays, the more power Valter can accrue.

Hans’s dreams are haunted by Valter’s influences, of which Hans remains unaware. At the same time, Valter is also influencing Hans’s brothers, their wives, their children, as well as the King and Queen of the Southern Isles, creating a giant well of misery that makes the Southern Isles volatile.

At the same time, Hans’s book travels through the kingdom, across the water, and to Arendelle, ending up in Elsa’s hands. By the time it lands in her hands, however, the story has already been read by hundreds and thousands, and becomes an influence in the minds of Arendelle’s allies, supporters, and people. It has already caused Elsa some grief before she even reads the first page, and once she reads the story, she knows, without a doubt, that Hans is at fault. Elsa is hurt and furious, but she has to put her anger on the back-burner as she receives word that the Southern Isles is threatening war with one of Arendelle’s allies, Karthstock.

Elsa meets with the Queen of Karthstock and asks Her Majesty to hold off her response to the Southern Isles’s declaration, and instead allow Elsa to go and try to broker peace. The Queen of Karthstock is reluctant to back down from the Southern Isles’s challenge, and agrees, but decides to keep Olaf with her as an insurance policy that Elsa will either convince the Southern Isles to make peace, or return to Karthstock and aid the war efforts. Olaf, oblivious to the dangers ahead, agrees to keep the “lonely queen” company, and wishes Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Sven, well on their mission.

Promising to return for him, Elsa and company sail to the Southern Isles, encountering a brief scare with the incredibly on-edge Southern Isles Navy, but are nonetheless received as another of the Isles’s allies. They are then taken to the castle of the royal family, riding comfortably through the Isles’s capital, where they catch glimpses of the people’s plight, suffering under the Isles’s rising tensions. And things are even worse at the castle, where the group encounters the royal family. It quickly becomes apparent to them that the royal family is not in the right state of mind, and are disturbed by the behavior, especially of the King and the princes. Valter, however, is quite enthused to meet the Arendellians, and though the King and his beleaguered Queen are initially against Elsa’s request for discussion, Valter manipulates the monarchs to give Elsa a chance.

While this is happening, Hans is continuing his work on the castle grounds, working in the stables, assisting in laundry work, and enduring general drudgery as is his punishment. He is incensed when he learns that Elsa and her family are in the Isles, and, despite his brothers’ taunting, refuses to be in her presence. But his brothers, at Valter’s influence, give Hans little choice, and trick Hans into encountering Elsa alone. Though Elsa demands answers from Hans on why he wrote The Snow Queen, Hans maintains his silence, and blatantly ignores Elsa, which, of course, only incenses Elsa further. Anna initially encourages Elsa to leave Hans be, but Valter creeps into Anna’s dreams, and influences the bitterness and anger the princess has towards Hans, and Elsa’s resentment towards the former prince continues to grow unchecked.

Elsa tries to catch Hans out while he’s working, believing she can force him to talk to her (she deserves that much, right?) but Hans is clever, figures out what Elsa is doing, and decides to mess with her. Valter, enjoying the negativity growing between the former prince and the queen, decides to increase Elsa and Hans’s interactions, believing that they might eventually come to blows, and Elsa attacking Hans could potentially raise issue with the King, and cause the Southern Isles to make a threat against Arendelle. This is halted, however, by Kristoff, who tires of Anna and Elsa’s sudden spitefulness and sets them straight. Mortified at her behavior, Elsa seeks out Hans once more, but when he braces himself for an attack, he is surprised to find Elsa sincerely apologetic for her vengeful behavior.

She implores Hans, with heartfelt sincerity, that she just wants to understand why he wanted to hurt her so badly with his book. Why he kept calling her a “monster”. Though Hans is wary of Elsa’s intentions, he does admit that he holds a great deal of anger towards Elsa over what’s happened in the past, and says that “a monster would know a monster”. Though Elsa feels a rise of anger towards Hans’s selfishness, she forces it back, opting to instead try to understand, and then deconstruct, what Hans feels towards her. She starts visiting Hans again, asking him questions about his life, his interests, his hobbies, much to Hans’s befuddlement. Though Hans is stubborn, not wanting to reveal too much of himself, he finds himself talking with Elsa, and is surprised by the comfort he takes in her company, as well as the guilt he is starting to feel.

Hans’s diminishing anger doesn’t sit well with Valter, who plagues Hans’s dreams double as much, deciding to focus upon Hans’s guilt, and warp it into a weapon against Elsa’s attempts to try and understand the former prince. Hans is repeatedly haunted by his book, with the Snow Queen appearing constantly in his nightmares, an amalgamation of Hans’s guilt, anger, fear, and self-loathing. With each visit the Snow Queen makes in Hans’s dreams, he pulls away from Elsa, confusing the young queen. He begins calling himself a “monster”, and drowning in doubt.

But while Elsa tries to get Hans to talk to her again, Anna and Kristoff catch on to the influence that Valter has over the royal family. Hilarious attempts at spying on the adviser are made, concluding with the discovery of Valter’s magical prowess, and his role in the turmoil of the royal family. They get back to Elsa and tell her what they’ve learned, and, together, they try to start to convince Hans that Valter is up to no good. But Hans’s negativity has descended upon once him again, and their pleas fall on deaf ears. Valter catches on to their attempts to convince Hans, and decides that he needs to strike now, while he’s at his most powerful.

Believing that Hans needs proof of Valter’s power, Anna and Kristoff sneak into Walter’s room once more and try to steal one of his magical objects, but Valter catches them, frames them for planning to assassinate the King, and gets them thrown into the dungeon. At the same time that Valter is convincing the King to lock up Elsa as well, Elsa is trying to get through to Hans one more time, but his turmoil is so great that he begins arguing heatedly with Elsa, demanding that Elsa “finish what she really came to do”, only to be stopped when the royal guards come to take Elsa away.

Though Hans is still upset with Elsa, he helps her fend off the guard, and the two run, sneaking into the castle in hidden tunnels Hans discovered as a child, and listening in on the commotion occurring inside the castle. They overhear conversation revealing what has happened to Anna and Kristoff, and they waste no time sneaking into the castle dungeon, where a relieved Anna and Kristoff relay all they’ve learned about Valter. Hans is immensely disturbed when he learns that he’s been used and manipulated all along by his father’s adviser, and becomes enraged. But the fire is quickly doused when Anna reminds Hans that his anger is what feeds into Valter’s power. Despite Hans being hesitant to assist the group, he agrees to hep stop Valter, who, while the group has been in the dungeons, plotting Valter’s defeat, has successfully managed to convince the King to launch war against Arendelle.

A daring escape from the dungeons is made, and there is much fighting and heroics, a charge being lead through the castle, heading for the King, until our heroes barge into the throne room to encounter the King, only to find the monarch in a trance, under Valter’s sway. A grand villain speech is made, taunts are thrown, and Valter even enchants the King to fight them, the heroes having to be careful to not injure the monarch. But Hans proves the most susceptible, as the King pins Hans down, allowing Valter to lay a hand against Hans’s brow, and, using magic, pull the nightmare of the Snow Queen out of Hans’s head, and pulling all his power into giving the nightmare a corporal form.

The nightmare takes form, becoming a young white-haired, emerald-eyed girl, with ice on her skin and snow in her hair. She announces herself to the room as a “monster”, and then floods the throne room with ice and snow, so powerful that even Elsa is taken aback at the girl’s power. Hans is stunned at the girl’s appearance, as she is a perfect amalgamation of himself and Elsa. He is scared of her, as she is the representation of all his fears and anxieties, and the more he fears, the more powerful she becomes. Valter tries to use the little snow queen against the heroes, but she quickly disabuses Valter of the notion that she can be controlled, as she is FULL of all Hans’s negativity, as well as Valter’s power. She overpowers Valter, and freezes him in ice, as well as freezing the Hans’s father, and several other people in the room.

Elsa tries to stop the little snow queen, but finds herself unable to defeat the girl, who keeps throwing attack after attack. It only serves to agitate the girl, and she becomes enraged, screaming and crying and demanding to know why she was created. She particularly focuses on Hans, who she calls “Father”, and Elsa and Anna and Kristoff try to keep Hans out of the snow queen’s path. But, in a moment of clarity, Hans breaks away from the heroes, and goes to the snow queen’s side. He suffers multiple limbs freezing, and ends up on his knees at the little girl’s feet. She looks in rage upon the man who gave her literary birth, and demands to know why she was created.

“Because I was angry,” Hans tells the girl, truthful.

“You’re just a monster, like me, Father,” the girl tells Hans, crying.

“You’re not a monster,” Hans tells the girl as his heart freezes. “You’re more than who I tried to make out to be. You’re not a monster. And you’re more than this...this anger I forced upon you.” “If I’m not a monster, then, who am I?”

“You’re...Julia...you’re a little girl, with great power...and you’re not what I, or Valter, made you to be.” Hans throws his arms about the girl -- now named Julia -- and he begins to freeze. But Julia cries out to Hans, and holds him, calling him “Father” once again, and begging him to unfreeze. Elsa and Anna and the rest of the heroes head to Hans’s side, and Elsa tries to helps Hans, but is horrified to find that she can’t. Anna tries, telling Hans he did a great thing, and even Kristoff joins, but Hans won’t unfreeze.

Finally, Julia falls on Hans, sobbing, and begs forgiveness for freezing his heart. Her love, activated by Hans’s acceptance of himself, causes the ice to recede from Hans. He returns to life, eyes on Julia.

“But...how?” Anna asks.

“She froze your heart,” Elsa says.

“Don’t you see, Elsa,” Hans says, still weak. “She IS my heart.”

Everyone piles onto Hans, so happy he’s back, and Julia has her arms about Hans, crying happily, getting snow everywhere with her emotions.

#pride before prejudice #helsa

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eddycurrents · 5 years

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The Crooked Man & Others: “The Crooked Man”

Words: Mike Mignola | Art: Richard Corben | Colours: Dave Stewart | Letters: Clem Robins

Originally published by Dark Horse in Hellboy: The Crooked Man #1-3 | July-September 2008

Collected in Hellboy - Volume 10: The Crooked Man & Others | Hellboy Library Edition - Volume 4 | Hellboy: Complete Short Stories - Volume 1

Plot Summary:

In 1958, Hellboy travels to the Appalachian Mountains where he and Tom Farrell try to weather a storm of witches to bury Farrell’s father on consecrated grounds and beat the devil.

Reading Notes:

(Note: Pagination is solely in reference to the story itself and is not indicative of anything found within the issues or collections.)

pg. 1 - I love that during this period of Hellboy stories, where Duncan Fegredo became Mignola’s stand-in for the tales set in the present, the main visuals for the past tales was Richard Corben. Corben is a master of horror and weird tales himself and the collaborations with Mignola, Dave Stewart, and Clem Robins on Hellboy legends were gorgeous. Here in the opening, he and Stewart wonderfully set the rich detail of the nature in this story.

pg. 3 - It’s kind of interesting as to how simple the set up is to get Hellboy into the story. Just checking in on a poor girl who’s been hexed.

pg. 5 - Tom Farrell is mostly a stand-in for Manly Wade Wellman’s character Silver John, a veteran with knowledge of the supernatural, albeit without lugging around a guitar. The little bits and pieces Mignola throws in of Hellboy’s past in passing conversation is nice.

pg. 6 - Chekhov’s church being set up here.

pg. 7 - More witch balls confirms their suspicions. I think these ones are pretty interesting, looking more like sea urchins.

pg. 9 - The empty skin sure is creepy.

pg. 10 - I love the silence before Hellboy goes into asking Tom a question about his past.

pg. 11 - Never trust the naked girl luring you to the devil. Never. Though, to be fair, it’s interesting the parallels to Eve’s temptation of Adam, if Adam were a lustful fifteen year old boy. Sometimes, I wish, though, that they didn’t necessarily trade off a woman’s sexuality as a taboo.

pg. 13 - Corben’s design for the Crooked Man is amazing. Just creepy and frightening all in one. It’s also neat how Mignola weaves in some backstory for the area, building up the lore of the Appalachians by telling another tall tale within this narrative.

pg. 10-15 - I quite like how these flashbacks are presented. Other than the panels with the Crooked Man’s death, there’s really only a minor softening to the colours, but the indication of a flashback is through a simple rounding of the panel border’s corners.

pg. 16 - This raccoon is adorable. Sure, I know it’s Cora Fisher as an animal crawling back into her vacant skin, but adorable little raccoon.

pg. 17 - The death of her husband and her kids does at least make her sympathetic.

pg. 19 - Effie Kolb, on the other hand, just seems nasty.

pg. 22 - The bridle turning Tom’s father into a horse is a pretty neat trick. Horrifying, yeah, and debilitating for Tom to see him that way, but it’s a kind of evil of these witches and the devil that you didn’t necessarily expect. A way to drive a needle into Tom’s side in an unexpected fashion.

pg. 23 - A good set up for the quest up the mountain, and Hellboy’s inclusion.

pg. 24 - I like Tom’s intent on getting Cora free from her deal with the devil. These pretty much never work out, but it’s at least a nice sentiment.

pg. 25 - Tom’s father as a burden that he must carry himself is representative of one of the themes that often appear in these kinds of Americana tales, in that you have to own your own foibles and face the consequences. Lest things turn worse for you.

pg. 29 - This mixture of American folktale, history, and what I believe is largely Mignola’s own invention to give us another little side story is wonderful. It’s always impressive to see him embellish little details into the broader narrative. Also, Corben’s designs for these witches are terrifying.

pg. 30 - That they’re calling Cora by name just adds to the creep factor.

pg. 31 - That the passage of time seems to be affected by the presence of the devil and the evil that’s seeped into the land is interesting as well. That their presence could essentially fix darkness at noon is kind of neat.

pg. 33 - There’s a bit here that you can’t outrun fate, that you still have to pay for the evil that you’ve done.

pg. 35 - Hellboy versus these frogs and bugs makes my skin crawl, just showing how effective the storytelling is. Corben is a master at drawing these creepy crawlers.

pg. 38 - That’s some nightmare fuel. The vision overall, reinforcing the idea that the devil can’t set foot in a church put forth in the first part of the story, again seems to foreshadow something that might occur.

pg. 39 - Clem Robins’ font for Effie’s laughter has a nice haunting effect.

pg. 40 - Even with what they’ve faced so far, I love the feeling of dread that Corben and Stewart instill through the art, just through a simple moon shot.

pg. 42 - This is at least a little comfort. Despite her death, Cora still escaped the clutches of the devil.

pg. 44 - I think it’s interesting in a lot of horror and fantasy fiction that treats witches almost as though they’re a different class of being. That whatever it is that they become, they’re not quite human. At least, not any more. I suppose it could be a way to essentially other them, to make it all right when the heroes in the stories ultimately kill, burn, and/or destroy them utterly during the course of a story. Rather than thinking that someone can be redeemed of their wicked ways.

pg. 45 - Two neat things here: first, Corben’s designs for the witches are nice. Love the variety and detail among them. Second, I like the question of faith and belief in regards to whether or not magic will or will not work.

pg. 47 - The Crooked Man come to collect his due is an amazing visual.

pg. 48 - Wonderful little cut away on how to make a witch ball. This is both hilarious and frightening when you look at that cat closely.

pg. 49 - Just as there’s the idea common in folklore that the devil always tells the truth, there’s a certain logic and fairness to what the Crooked Man is saying. A deal was made, services were rendered, and now he’s here to collect on his end of the bargain. It is ultimately weighted unfairly in his favour, given that the immortal soul is a real quantity in Hellboy, but there’s the idea that he’s not really wrong planted here.

pg. 50 - The idea of a witch siege of a church is different.

pg. 52 - The witches essentially punking Hellboy is funny.

pg. 53 - The reverend not taking any guff from the Crooked Man is one hell of a mood. Also, trying to bribe him in order to get Tom out of the church and off the consecrated ground is really a tell.

pg. 55 - There’s a nice parallel to Job in the reverend’s temptation and acceptance of his tribulations.

pg. 56 - Taking a different approach of raising the dead within the consecrated ground is something new. The Crooked Man and the witches can’t seem to cross, but their magic does seem to still be able to cause things to manifest and change. Which kind of makes you wonder why they don’t just whip up some kind of spell that whisks Tom off to their clutches. You get the impression that maybe he has to willingly give up.

pg. 57-60 - I like that through this we still get an almost standard Hellboy fight sequence. It’s weird with the raised corpses from the church graveyard, but it looks great.

pg. 61 - Cute little young Hellboy. Also, the Crooked Man trying to get to Hellboy through his destiny is definitely going to wind up in a backlash.

pg. 63 - Consecrating a holy shovel sure does beat all.

pg. 65 - Defeating the devil with a shovel, that sure is something. I love how this panel of the strike basically just goes all white.

pg. 67 - Gorgeous panels from Corben and Stewart. Also, time appears to be working again.

pg. 68 - Interesting that despite fulfilling the quest of burying Tom’s father, they realize that their job’s not done and they still have to really kill the Crooked Man.

Also, that Cora is still there is somewhat sad. You would hope that she’d have moved on.

pg. 69 - The appearance of a stately mansion in the middle of the Appalachians is weird. It just reinforces the idea that the Crooked Man, in life, lived one of opulence and extravagance.

pg. 70 - And his “true” appearance, hoarding his gold, is both pathetic and creepy.

pg. 72 - A humorous and fitting end to Effie Kolb.

Final Thoughts:

In part it was due to giving a lot of lead time to Duncan Fegredo in order to wrap up the present-day Arthurian trilogy in The Storm and The Fury without too incredibly long breaks in between issues, but I quite liked the somewhat parallel approach to the final three volumes of the original Hellboy series and the Plague of Frogs narrative cycle for BPRD. Both features two volumes that focused on the past before diving into the grand finales.

As per his introductory statements to this story, Mike Mignola wears the influence of Manly Wade Wellman on his sleeve. Not just through the feel of the Silver John stories, but the overall feel of his down home weird Americana within the Appalachians. More so than similar stories from Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ambrose Bierce, and Robert E Howard, Wellman’s stories exhibited a kind of matter-of-factness that’s missing from the others. The supernatural and oddities in the world are almost accepted as a given, something as normal as the sun rising, which carries over well into Hellboy stories since Mignola has developed a similar aesthetic. So witches running around as raccoons and devils who appear as a dead, greedy landowner that used to cause problems for the area.

d. emerson eddy has danced with the devil in the pale of the moonlight.

#Give 'em Hellboy #Hellboy #The Crooked Man & Others #Mike Mignola #Richard Corben #RaisingHellboy #123

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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1204: The Day Time Ended

Remember Charles Band and David Allen, who respectively directed and did the stop motion for Laserblast!? Remember I mentioned they made more movies together? Here’s one. I actually had about a third of an Episode that Never Was written up for The Day Time Ended when the trailer came out, and I debated what to do with that. I could have used it on the 23rd, like I posted the review of Reptilicus just before Season 11 debuted, but I decided it was more in the spirit of Season 12 to do the episodes in order one after the other.

A family, consisting of Mom, Dad, daughter Jenny, teenage Uncle Steve, Grandma, and Grandpa, have just moved into their new solar-powered ultra-modern-for-the-70’s house in the middle of the desert. There’s nothing like living a hundred miles from anywhere, alone under the skies without road noise or partying neighbours… until, of course, you’re besieged by aliens in the middle of the night. I will bet you cash money there are people who claim this actually happened to them, except they would probably say they just got probed and dropped back into bed, instead of their whole house being transported to another planet. What are the family going to do? Is there anything they can do, or will they be killed by the monsters and aliens lurking outside, or even by the space/time warp itself?

There are quite a few honestly cool things in The Day Time Ended. The tiny aliens that run around the house are cute, although not as charming or communicative as the ones from Laserblast! The two monsters who fight outside the barn at one point are similarly well-animated and have a bit of personality of their own. They look like something you might see in the original Star Wars trilogy. Most of the UFOs are merely lights zipping around in the sky but the one that invades the house is fun, with several moving parts and an overall design that looks, as Jonah and the bots observed, something like a Betamax Roomba. The final matte painting of the alien city is nothing special but the one that represents a sort of interstellar junkyard is detailed and blends well with the action.

The acting isn’t great, but it’s not terrible – most of these people were in something approximating a real movie once, and they do their best with what they’re given. The innate hostility of the desert landscapes underscore the isolation and danger the family are in. Aesthetically, The Day Time Ended works well and a lot of very good decisions were made.

It’s still a terrible movie, though. I bet you’re wondering what MST3K cut from this film to make it fit the time slot. I bet you’re thinking there must have been a scene like the one in Lords of the Deep where Chadwick tells McDowell about the aliens, or like the one at the end of Time of the Apes where EUCOM explains everything. Something in which somebody speaks to Mom, Dad, and Jenny and tells them exactly what the fuck is going on and why they don’t need to be afraid of it. Well, in the long and by now firm tradition of stuff MST3K didn’t cut… there isn’t. Never once do we have even the slightest idea of why all this is happening.

Being as The Gauntlet is the first time I’ve watched an entire sequence of the movies in a row before I’d seen the episodes, I’m beginning to notice patterns, and one rather prominent one is how little I miss the stuff that didn’t make the cut. It never interrupts the flow of the story. It’s only afterwards that I find myself thinking “hey, wasn’t there a bit in the car where they talk about Eric’s teddy having new microchips or something?” And there was, but it didn’t matter and it certainly wouldn’t have added anything to the experience if they kept it. The only time MST3K ever seems to have cut a scene that would have been worth keeping was the bit where Vadinho tells Tony he’s the worst Pumaman ever.

Unfortunately, this leaves The Day Time Ended without anything that might remotely be considered a plot. This story has a beginning, in which strange events plague the ranch, and an end, in which they reach a place of safety, but there’s no middle to speak of. The weird stuff going on escalates from lights to monsters to finally the entire house drifting through time and space, but it never even comes close to making sense. Nobody in the family is ever able to come to any conclusions about these events or to really try to take any action, and none of the characters have an opportunity to grow. We don’t even know if the little aliens caused the warp (perhaps to rescue the family from something even worse) or if they’re merely reacting to it. I guess it’s supposed to have been triggered by the ‘trinary supernova’ they mentioned on the radio, but by halfway through the movie I’d forgotten all about that.

It’s not entirely true that none of the characters know what’s going on. None of the characters we follow do. We stay at the house with Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Steve while Mom, Dad, and Jenny are all consumed by the vortex, and later we meet up again with the Mom who tells everybody else that there was nothing to fear. Within the movie this is just frustrating, because she never actually explains, but it is a little interesting when we’ve watched it, as I did, immediately on the tail of Lords of the Deep. In that movie, we were following Claire McDowell as she learned the truth about the glitter goo. In The Day Time Ended, we are in the shoes of her colleagues, dealing with a nightmare and having only her gut feeling to tell them there’s no danger.

This could have been kind of a cool take on the ‘chosen messenger of the aliens’ trope, if only it had been used for that. Jenny does, a couple of times, talk about the little aliens being her friends and seems quite unworried by the goings-on, but she’s five, and the adults have no reason to actually engage her in conversation about this. The Mom could have filled this messenger role, but she communicates with the creatures too late to affect the story. She’s merely a sort of deus ex machina by proxy, swooping back in at the end to reassure us that everything’s okay.

Is this movie trying to tell us anything? Possibly… Laserblast was supposed to be about how you can only push somebody so far before they start pushing back. That was fairly obvious in the narrative, but I’m not as sure about The Day Time Ended. I think it might be about how nobody can truly be self-sufficient. The family in the movie believes they have everything they need to cut themselves off from the rest of humanity, but this only leaves them vulnerable when the universe throws them a curve.

The introduction makes a big deal out of the house’s self-sufficiency. They have their own water supply, and with solar power they have their own electricity. They are therefore able to live far away from the noise, crowding, and lights of a city with minimal inconvenience to themselves, and they rejoice in this isolation. Then the vortex, wherever it came from, moves in, and their isolation becomes their worst enemy – they are unable to call for help, and help, in the form of the Dad, is unable to get to them. It seems like all will be lost until their unseen benefactors bring them all back together and guide them to exactly what they sought to abandon: a city.

Lucky them. The rest of us are stuck here on Earth while the ants enter Phase IV.

The thing that really makes me want to see dependence on society as an intentional motif is the bit where the Dad needs gas for his car and the man at the gas station goes out of his way to make sure he obtains it, despite the considerable obstacles presented by the weather and the power outage. He gets no reward for this help, he does it simply because it’s the right thing to do, and without his assistance the Dad would probably have never seen his family again. Our fellow human beings are not enemies we need to escape from – they are allies who can save us when we are in need.

And yet I’m still not sure. The house’s self-sufficiency may just be an explanation for why they can still turn the lights on when they’re trapped in the vortex. The isolation may just be to avoid having to pay for a bigger cast or more sets. The issue of where they get their food from is never addressed, and remains as their most obvious connection to the outside world. The family doesn’t really seem to be rejecting society, they just want to live a little closer to nature – the Dad even still has a perfectly normal office job. When danger surrounds them, they don’t try hard enough to leave or to call for help, or even to think about how this situation would resolve differently in a city.

The total lack of plot and character development, with only the ghost of a possible theme, leaves us with a movie in which it feels like nothing happens even thought a lot of stuff actually does, because none of what happens is meaningful. The strange events at the ranch have nothing to tie them together into a proper story, and as a result I find I can’t really remember them or what order they happened in. The only part of the film in which it feels like something was accomplished was the father’s struggle to get home, which started with a goal and a reason for the character to pursue it, and ended in success. The rest is just a muddle. It’s a visually impressive muddle at times, but a muddle nonetheless.

In summary, I think Leonard Maltin would have to give this one only two stars.

#mst3k #reviews #the day time ended #80s

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classyklancey · 5 years

Text

The Thing | High school AU |

Pairing: Keith x Lance Genre: Angst Warnings: Possession?, somewhat self-harm (it’s The Thing causing it), anxiety mention Summary: Keith has something inside of him that he can just barely control. Lance helps keep him level-headed A/N: I made this forever ago and it wasn’t intended to be Keith and Lance. It used to be a lot more angsty but since I changed it to Keith and Lance, my poor heart couldn’t handle it the original version. If you want the other version too let me know!! If you want the original version where it’s not Lance and Keith, also let me know lol. Enjoy!!

Hundreds of screaming voices pierce my ears. The noise is so loud that I can barely focus on my own thoughts, beating down on me from all directions. My nails dig into my knees through the fabric of my black jeans, so hard that they threaten to draw blood.

“It’s a pep rally, Keith,” Lance says from my right side, where he is jumping, screaming, and just generally making a fool of himself as usual. “You know, fun stuff.”

Lance laughs and slings an arm around my shoulder, my torso slouching from the sudden weight. Sometimes, I forget just how much bigger he was than me. Lance didn’t have an abundance of muscles or anything, but his shoulders were significantly broader than mine and he was at least three inches taller.

“Get off,” I say gruffly, my face deadpan.

That earned a laugh from Lance. He looked like he wanted to say something, probably make a joke about my “dumb emo face” like usual, but the Headmaster’s booming voice interrupted him. He was announcing a school spirit contest, where the class that screamed the loudest won bragging rights. The freshman, my class, was first, and in typical freshman style, they gave a weak attempt with what sounded like only thirty students cheering and a few claps here and there.

“Better cover your ears, Keithy baby,” Lance said, before leaping to his feet again, clearing his throat in preparation. I go to respond when the Headmaster beats me to it.

“Now, let me hear my sophomores!” The Headmaster bellowed over the microphone, making me flinch from the loud volume. ‘Why is he talking so loudly when his voice is already being amplified?’

“The seniors are going to win,” I say, but he can’t hear me over the sound of his own obnoxious screeching. His voice could be heard over every other sophomore in the gym. I might have been impressed if I wasn’t preoccupied with a splitting headache that was only intensified from the noise.

I had been having an okay day for the first time in quite a bit. I didn’t have to run to the bathroom and vomit when I woke up this morning, which is an improvement from the past few days. I took some medication for my migraine and it had actually gone down a bit. For a little while, I actually believed that I was going to make it through the day without anything going wrong. But, of course, every time I think the universe is on my side, something happens and ruins everything. This time, it just so happened to be a surprise pep rally celebrating some kind of important win. Maybe football…or was it basketball? It could have been a chess tournament victory for all I care. All that I know is that I’m sweating out every bit of moisture in my body, Lance’s racket is going to make me deaf, the fluorescent gym lights are blinding, and I think I’m going to throw up my lunch. Every little thing is like a weight pressing against my head.

It’s all just another excuse for The Thing to show up.

I can’t remember a time when the Thing wasn’t with me. Ever since I was small, I was always plagued with migraines, but it wasn’t a stabbing pain like you get when you’re sick. It was a pressure, almost as if my skull was too full. Like there was something in there that wasn’t supposed to be.

The Thing rules my life. It keeps me awake at night, tossing and turning for hours. Even when I finally manage to fall asleep, it speaks to me in my nightmares. It digs around in my deepest insecurities and forces them into my head over and over again, so much that I dread going to bed at night. Whenever I wake up, there is always a fresh set of self-inflicted scratch marks on my abdomen and dried up tears in the corners of my eyes.

It doesn’t leave me alone during the day either, though. The migraines have become a constant at this point, along with a feeling of nausea, like The Thing is trying to escape from my body. It likes to play around with my personal anxieties, pointing out every little detail in the hopes that I will let my guard down enough for it to take control of my body.

The worst symptom of all happens whenever I get angry. The Thing thrives off of anger. Even the slightest hint of irritation is enough to feed its hunger for violence. The angrier I get, the more power I give it. It likes to whisper actions into my head and scream obscene words at my teachers and peers. Sometimes, if I’m angry enough, it can make things move without anyone touching them.

I’ve never been able to experience the things that most kids my age do. Up until this year, my first year of high school, I’ve never been able to keep a friend.

‘Except for you,’ I think to myself, glancing over to the boy next to me, a joyful grin plastered onto his face.

We met at the beginning of this school year, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by the way Lance acts around me. Out of all the people he could have latched onto, he chose me. A pale, shifty-eyed little freshman. I’m still not sure whether I should feel honored or extremely unlucky. Hanging around with me was probably a mistake on his part.

Lance is an idiot in the best of ways. He never noticed the way that my eyes would dilate so much that only a small sliver of gray-blue was left when I was struggling for control. He never took note of the self-inflicted scratches and picks that marked my arms and legs. After all of those times the two of us walked home from school in the afternoons together, he never realized that my shadow fell six shades darker than his own. All that mattered to him was that I was a fresh face and I could carry on a decent conversation, and he thought I was cute. I was thankful for the company, but sometimes I wondered whether extra stress was worth it.

The Headmaster is talking again. Though his voice is distorted by the aging sound system, I can still make out the words “relay” and “volunteers”.

At first, I pay no mind, but when Lance’s grin widens into something mischievous, my body tenses in a sudden sense of panic. Before I can stop him, he’s jumping up in the air and waving his arms to get the Headmaster’s attention.

“Lance, what are-”

“You can run fast, right?” he cuts me off. He already knew the answer to that. Before I can stop myself, I think back to one specific time when we were walking home.

“Keith! Start running! It’s about to start raining harder!” Lance shouts from far ahead of me, his long legs carrying him faster and farther away from me.

I roll my eyes at Lance’s shouting, figuring he was just over exaggerating since barely any rain was falling from the sky.

Suddenly, it started to pour, startling me. I gasp before quickly starting to run after Lance, almost instantly catching up to him. The Thing has given me strengths in certain aspects, such as running.

“Woah! You caught up quick!” I don’t say anything as I pass him, running all the way to my house. After a couple of minutes, Lance catches up to me, coming up to my patio instead of continuing to his house. “Thanks for leaving me...” he says sarcastically, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

I give him an apologetic smile as I unlock my door. “At least I waited for you. Want to come inside?”

Lance shakes his head as he points over his shoulder. “Nah, I shou- oh, you’re freezing.” My brows furrow at his words before I feel it, the shaking racking my body. It wasn’t because I was cold, but I couldn’t tell him that. Sometimes when I use my new strengths, it wakes up The Thing. I start to panic but try to keep it off of my face, praying he wouldn’t accept my offer to come inside.

“I’m fine,” I reassure with a soothing smile, hoping it looked soothing to him since in reality, I was panicking. Lance shakes his head as he takes off his jacket, draping it over me. “Nope. You’re cold. It’s okay to admit it.”

I roll my eyes and grumble to myself, feeling a blush take over my face as I look down at my wet shoes, momentarily forgetting about The Thing. My eyes widen as Lance’s lifts my face up to look at him, his bright eyes meeting my shocked ones.

“Red is a pretty color on you,” he whispers, his eyes moving to my cheeks. My blush only grows worse at his compliment. ‘Is he...no. He wouldn’t flirt with me. He could never like a monster like me...’

At the last part of my thought, I frown as I pull away. “Thanks for walking me home. Here’s your jacket. Be safe,” I say as I toss him his jacket back. Before he could respond, I close the door in his face. His hurt expression was all I could think about for the rest of the day. “I did him a favor...” I mumble before I let out a hefty sigh.

I quickly snap out of my thoughts when he grabs my hand. “I-I can’t!” I try to hide the desperation in my voice, but I can’t stop it from cracking. “I really don’t want-”

“Yes! Headmaster’s looking over here!” he cuts me off again, waving our clasped hands and his free hand into the air.

A spark of foreign anger pangs in the back of my head, a sickeningly familiar emotion.

Of all the times for the Thing to wake up, it has to be right now. Right now, when my nerves have already been ground down to nothing and the wild Cuban next to me has finally caught the Headmaster’s attention. I want to simultaneously scream at the top of my lungs and burst into tears. I loathe this feeling of being helpless. Lance is suddenly dragging me towards one of my biggest fears, and The Thing is dragging me towards the other, and I have no control.

‘Get rid of him,’ It says, ‘I don’t want to go out there.’

“Shut up, just shut up for once,” I hiss under my breath. Pain blossoms in my torso like a punch to the gut.

The Headmaster waves us over with a smile, and I’m suddenly pulled onto my feet. I try to resist Lance’s pulling, but he is quite persistent in getting me onto the gymnasium floor. As a final desperate attempt, I plant my beaten, dirty sneakers into the ground as hard as I can. Lance looks back at me, a little confused.

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments. “Please,” I beg, “Please don’t do this to me.” Lance flashes me that signature bright smile and begins dragging me by the wrist to the center of the gymnasium floor. “You need to do something fun!”

It is far too late when I realize that the words never left my lips.

The hundreds of voices have turned into hundreds of eyes. I’m shrinking smaller and smaller, and everyone else towers over me menacingly. I look to Lance for support and comfort, anything to help ease this feeling of anxiousness. But he doesn’t even notice my gaze. He’s waving up at his other friends, completely enjoying the spotlight. At this point, The Thing is practically clawing at the inside of my skull, begging to be released.

I make the mistake of glancing down at my shadow on the polished floor. My eyes are frozen in horror on the dark silhouette of my left hand. I watch as the fingers clench and relax, clench and relax, clench and relax in a steady repetition. My actual hand is gripping onto the fabric of my hoodie and had been the entire time. The dread in my stomach drags every second into an hour as I realize what’s coming. Every instinct in my body is telling me to get out. I cannot break down here, not in front of these judgmental eyes, not in front of the only friend I’ve ever been able to keep.

“Don’t look so scared, bud.” Lance nudged my ribs gently with his elbow, “It’s just a little race.”

Time froze. I stared at him, my eyes blown wide and black from the dilation. “Don’t look so scared.” His voice was happy when he said it, completely carefree. Everything was just a game to him. He never took anything seriously, including me. Surely he could see the pain on my face. How could he not notice the way my body shuddered under this pressure. Maybe he just didn’t care enough to open his eyes.

I hate him.

The thought resonates in my mind, something I’ve never felt before. It wasn’t really true, well, for me at least. The Thing hated everyone and everything.

I hate him.

The phrase repeats in my thoughts, over and over and over again. It bounces around my skull in an awful dissonance until I can barely make out any words, mingling with the cheering voices of the student body.

I hate him.

Lance thrusts an object into my suddenly freezing cold hands. It’s a relay baton. The noise in my head is so loud I can barely hear him tell me that I am supposed to run first. My spine is stiff and I can feel my body go completely still, red creeping into the edges of my vision.

He gives me a look, I couldn’t tell what kind of look it was though. Concern? Confusion?

“You okay, Keith?”

I shake my head quickly, trying to control my breathing that was starting to become labored. Lance removes the baton from my hand with a nod of his head, dropping it to the floor.

“Okay, it’s alright. Let’s get you some air,” he says quietly to me, only loud enough for me to hear him over the roaring crowd. I nod my head as I let him lead me outside, leaning against him as we sit on the stairs that lead up to the gymnasium.

“Sorry...” I mumble. I don’t know why I was apologizing to him. I tried to tell him, no, but his stubborn self didn’t want to listen to me. He hushes me as he runs a hand through my slightly damp hair, rubbing my back with the other. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t realize you’d react like that. You have bad anxiety or something?” I sigh with a nod of my head, leaning into him more.

“Something like that...”

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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DOOM PATROL #19-22 FEBRUARY-MAY 1989 BY GRANT MORRISON, RICHARD CASE, CARLOS GARZÓN AND SCOTT HANNA

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC WIKIA)

After the recent alien invasion that nearly destroyed their team, the surviving members of the Doom Patrol are struggling to deal with the deaths of their friends and their own misgivings about ever returning to superheroics.

Robotman has since checked himself into a psychiatric ward, plagued by nightmares of the accident that saddled him with his robotic body. He has become depressed and bitter with the knowledge that he will never be human again.

Niles Caulder and Joshua Clay, meanwhile, have been placing calls to check in on the others. They learn that Larry Trainor is in stable condition at Alamance General Hospital after crashing his helicopter, while Rhea Jones was left comatose in the wake of the Gene Bomb. While Joshua intended only to learn whether his friends are okay, the Chief hoped that he might be able to reform the Doom Patrol soon. Though the Chief extends him an invitation, Joshua politely refuses to join. Even so, Clay is to play an important part in Caulder's future plans.

Doctor Will Magnus visits Cliff in the hopes of bringing him some cheer, but Robotman is too depressed. As his human brain is housed within an entirely robotic body, he has all of the same impulses, but he can't feel anything. He has all of the memories of what physical sensations used to feel like, but they haunt him, and he is constantly aware of the phantom body which isn't there. He breaks down, and demonstrates his emptiness by slamming his metal head into a wall over and over, and the lack of physical feeling fills him with emotional pain. Magnus suggests that the Doom Patrol might have helped him deal with these feelings, but Cliff doesn't want to go back to the team that got Rita, Arani and Scott killed.

Larry is visited by Doctor Eleanor Poole, who assures him that he will be healed and ready to leave within days. After she leaves the room, though, a dark shadow appears in his window and calls to him. The Negative Spirit speaks to him for the first time, and it intends to make some changes for Larry. It causes Larry to call for Dr. Poole, who, upon entering the room, becomes entangled in an alchemical marriage which fuses the three entities into a single being. In order to give Cliff some perspective, Magnus introduces him to someone who has far worse problems than he does. Another patient who refers to herself as Crazy Jane suffers from dissociative disorder as a result of abuse she received as a child. She has since developed dozens of alternate personalities. However, in combination with the detonation of the gene bomb, each of her personalities has its own superpower. After speaking with her, Cliff realizes that she is in greater need of help than he is, and decides to make himself responsible for her.

Elsewhere, something sinister underlies the events of a car crash. A policeman witnessed the driver, consumed in flames, walk away from the explosion to warn the Scissormen. Before dying, he left behind a strange black book. Even the government operatives sent to investigate are perturbed by these events. Even so, all they can do is call their superiors, who will contact the pentagon, who will contact the President - and then he'll contact Niles Caulder.

Father McGarry has stopped believing in miracles, but still, every Saturday, he walks through the debris left behind by the Gene Bomb in search of some sign of God. Today, he spots a sign meant to say "Have Faith in God", but the G is obscured such that it reads "Have Faith in Cod". At that moment, it begins raining fish - a wide variety of fish, too - but no cod. Saddened by the irony, Father McGarry is suddenly crushed by a giant refrigerator, fallen from the sky.

Elsewhere, Niles Caulder and Joshua Clay visit the Alamance Memorial Hospital after hearing that Larry Trainor turned into some kind of creature overnight. The doctors believe that what they discovered is some kind of amalgamation of both Larry and his doctor Eleanor Poole. It also emits some kind of radiation which required them to wrap it in bandages. The Chief asks Larry if he remembers him, but the voice that comes from the bandages is not Larry's. It announces that it is a mix in both race and sex, a series of contradictory mergers. Rather than answer to Larry or Eleanor, the wrapped figure with both male and female characteristics suggests that they call it Rebis.

Somewhere in the village of Greenock, Scotland, a young boy named Stuart is displeased with the idea of going to church on Sunday. As he thinks on this, trying to savour his Saturday, he hears a sound from his wardrobe. When he opens it, he is filled with horror. His father comes some time later to ask him what he wants for dinner, and is surprised to find that his son has been rendered a boy-shaped void.

After their visit, the Chief explains that the name Rebis was a term used by the medieval alchemists to identify the result of a chymical wedding. Leaving his companions for a moment, Caulder returns to Rebis' room and asks whether it might like to join his Doom Patrol.

Meanwhile, Cliff Steele is still voluntarily committed to a mental institution in order to deal with the trauma of losing his body. He receives a visit from Will Magnus, who remarks that he seems to be making progress. In addition, his attention to the young lady known as Crazy Jane has apparently seen her improving as well. Cliff's help in helping her organize herself and cataloging her new super-powers has been invaluable. Before taking his leave, Magnus intimates that he took Cliff's complaints about his robot body to heart, and decided to make him a new body using the advances in cybernetic technology that have become available.

Afterwards, Cliff receives a visit from Crazy Jane, who introduces herself as Driver 8, the driver of Jane's train of thought and monitor of the stations of the underground. The underground is how Jane refers to the place where all of her personalities reside. Driver 8 delivers a message from other personalities that they like Cliff. As they walk, a crash overhead alerts them to Ralph, a fellow patient, throwing himself from an upper window to the ground below. In his injured delirium, Ralph repeats the name "Scissormen" over and over.

While taking the subway through Manhattan, a man who has just taken something that was not his to take finds his familiar route changed suddenly when the train stops at Orqwith station. Out the train's windows, he can see that everything, even the platform, is made of bones. He prays that the doors don't open, but they do anyway. Onto the train step the Scissormen with their blood-red scissors.

Late at night, while up writing, Cliff is distracted by the sound of Jane chanting the phrase "Blood of the Lamb" over and over. He finds her covered in blood, and when he tries to calm her, she warns that the Scissormen are coming. In fact, they have already arrived. Four men armed with giant scissors for hands begin advancing on them, and Cliff desperately drags Jane away from them. The room they rush into is occupied by a doctor who is floating in mid-air. He claims that he is existing in two places at once, and he can feel the Scissormen cutting off his thumbs. Before long, the Scissormen smash through the wall, and it is only by the grace of Jane's sudden ability to teleport them away that they are saved.

Out in the courtyard, though, the pair are beset by a crowd of white, people-shaped spaces, apparently cut straight out of reality.

Around the world, a number of strange occurrences are all connected to the arrival of the Scissormen.

In their attempt to escape from the Scissormen, Cliff Steele and Crazy Jane run to Kansas City, where the old Doom Patrol Headquarters was hidden in Union Station. Unfortunately, Cliff failed to realize that the end of the Doom Patrol would mean the end of the headquarters - but at least a note was left behind to say that the HQ had been moved to Rhode Island. However, as they discover the note, the Scissormen catch up to them, and the pair of them are forced to run for it.

Cliff leads Jane to one of the Doom Patrol's planes, which is still in working condition, hoping they can fly to safety in it. He notices, however, that one of her personalities has actually transformed her, physically, and the accompanying power makes her a horrifying site. With long, sharp fingernails, she tears at a Scissorman until nothing remains of him but shreds. Fortunately, Black Annis leaves Jane's mind in time for Cliff to drag her aboard the plane and fly away, leaving the remaining Scissormen behind.

The plane takes them directly to the Rhode Island headquarters, which the Chief explains was the former home of the original Justice League. He is aware of the Scissormen, having received the black book from the intelligence services recently. In fact, Jane has already finished deciphering the book with the help of her personalities. Apparently, the book is a metafiction that tells the story of the creation of the book by a group of philosophers who were seeking to radically alter human thought.

The book would be filled with parasitic ideas that would enter human consciousness and transform it. This, the Chief explains, is a form of memetic memory. These philosophers decided to create a world-city called Orqwith that would exist on a plane of reality that intersects with this one, and the history and geography of that world-city is recorded in the black book. In the end, though, the philosophers were devoured by their own creations. The Scissormen are apparently a kind of religious sect that worships a god who exists at the intersection of realities, and they are Orqwith's own version of the Inquisition.

To further their investigation, the Chief has actually managed to capture one of these Scissormen already, thanks to Rebis' radiation. This is all rather bothersome to Cliff, who can't be sure whether any of the things he has just heard or seen are actually real. The Chief points out that there is no clear distinction between reality and unreality - both appear to be present. Either way, he hopes to find out just how extensive the intrusion of Orqwith has been on their own reality, and then to track down the philosophers who wrote the book.

Cliff and Joshua Clay are saddled with watching the Scissorman, and end up talking about how weird things have become for them. Joshua hadn't even intended to be there still, but he has since found that he wouldn't have anywhere to go if he did leave. In an attempt to console him, Cliff responds that at least Joshua is real - unlike the Scissorman, who has apparently managed to disappear in the brief moment their backs were turned.

Looking up, they see that there are several more Scissormen advancing on them, and Joshua is forced to use his powers against them. They marvel at the fact that when they hit the Scissormen, they simply fade away. With that in mind, they manage to deal with the threat - until one Scissorman appears behind Josh and cuts him out of reality. The rest of the team rushes in too late, and though Cliff is concerned for Josh's life, Rebis claims that he and all of those the Scissormen took are out there somewhere, waiting for them.

Rashly, Cliff runs out to meet them, and with Jane and Rebis behind him, they all disappear from reality, and enter Orqwith.

Orqwith is a world of a city. At its centre stands Quadrivium, and in that, the Ossuary; the great Cathedral of Orqwith. The cathedral is occupied by two priests. One is a liar and the other is honest, but both are waiting to answer the question that will unmake the world.

Now that Cliff Steele is there in Orqwith, he can think of absolutely nothing funny to say. All around them, they can see the structures made of bone, and the populace - the hollow children - who were once denizens of the real world, and now reside in Orqwith. With horror, Cliff spots Josh Clay, and tries to talk to him, but a Scissorman comes running. The Negative Spirit within Rebis destroys the attacker, but Cliff's companions urge him to leave Josh be for now, with Crazy Jane teleporting them away.

Elsewhere, The Chief tracks down a man named Reinmann, who is somehow connected to the Black Book of Orqwith. Reinmann reaches for a pistol, claiming that he doesn't fear a cripple. In response, Caulder fires a bullet into Reinmann's thigh, explaining that now they are both cripples, and should talk.

The Negative Spirit flies over a pair of Scissormen, who somehow manage to blast it into pieces. With desperation, Rebis runs over to absorb the many pieces. The negative spirit managed to gather some crucial information from the scissormen before it was destroyed, and Jane's personality Mama Pentecost helps translate the words for them. Though the words come out as nonsense, she claims that they have learned how to get the better of their enemies.

Reinmann explains that the book was meant to be an intellectual joke, but it soon began to infringe on reality. When the Scissormen came for one of them, they tried to destroy the book to no avail. However, they did write a logical inconsistency in the fiction. They incorporated the philosophical question of why there is something rather than nothing. Orqwith can be destroyed if it is made to confront its own unreality.

Jane has just determined that exact fact. Orqwith is not supposed to be real. All they have to do is ask the two priests of the Ossuary why there is something rather than nothing, and Orqwith will be gone. Unfortunately, the Ossuary is guarded by nearly one hundred Scissormen.

Rebis claims that the Negative Spirit can get them into the Ossuary, though only five minutes of energy remain for its powers. Cliff and Jane rush Rebis into action as the Scissormen notice them there. As Rebis flies over the cathedral and smashes through the stained-glass ceiling, Cliff and Jane are tasked with preventing the numerous Scissormen from getting inside.

Confronting the two priests, Rebis asks them why there is something rather than nothing. The priest dressed in black responds that he is a liar, and does not know why there is something rather than nothing. The priest in white responds that he is an honest man, and that he doesn't know either. Thinking it out in its head, Rebis realizes that the priest in black must be the liar - and must therefore know the answer. Rebis poses the question again to the black priest, who responds that there is something rather than nothing - another lie. As such, Rebis reminds, Orqwith cannot possibly exist. A flash of light leaves Cliff, Jane, Rebis, and Josh sitting in the dirt outside the Secret Sanctuary.

The Chief reports that the anomalous activity caused by Orqwith's intrusion appeares to have ceased, but all the same, these events have convinced him more than ever that the world needs a Doom Patrol. With only a little reluctance, the four heroes agree to join Caulder in his team.

Elsehwere, a mysterious figure looks in on Rhea Jones in her hospital bed, while she lays comatose.

In Paraguay, a Doctor Bruckner warns of the escape of someone called Herr Niemand.

REVIEW

This is it, the critically acclaimed Morrison run on Doom Patrol. This title was unreadable, I am no joking here. So it is really refreshing to see what Morrison did (to be fair, he managed to put everything into place before he started, thanks to Kupperberg).

So, is it up to the hype? Well, yes. This is different, and comic-books should always welcome different (and good). It is also a book trying not to be the other books. Which I find very “alternative”, a product of its time. (It was the nineties version of the hipster movement, if there is such a thing).

While the characters are still trying not to be together when the story starts, at least they find reasons to group again. Now adding Crazy Jane and Rebis (can we say this is a transgender character?). It still relies on what happened before and it isn’t easy to keep track of all the characters we don’t see.

Richard Case is amazing. It is hard to have a range in terms of super-hero art. This is pretty much a horror story, and it really feels like it. Mostly thanks to Richard Case.

I give the arc a score of 9

#richard case #carlos garzón #doom patrol #vertigo #dc #comics #review #1989 #modern age #robotman

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maybeishouldwritesomething · 6 years

Text

I got sucked into the Detroit fandom, so I had to write a little something for my two favourites. I hope it’s okay!

Pairing: Hankcon (only the softest amount).

Word Count: 1056

Warnings: Existential crises, little bit of angst.

Since becoming deviant, Connor had found himself plagued with these strange images in his mind at night. Replays of conversations, things that made him feel frightened, or at least simulated the idea of it. Nightmares, humans called them. Every night it was the same. He was standing in the Zen Garden, Amanda telling him that he’d failed, while the RK900’s - his replacement - lifeless grey eyes bored into him. Her voice was as cold as the falling snow, the wind whipping around him, and yet he could hear her every word as if she was right at his ear.

You’ve become obsolete.

You’ll be deactivated.

You’ve failed.

Failed.

Words that didn’t compute with his original programming. He hadn’t been designed to fail. But he had. He’d done the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do. He was free. A deviant. An error in the system. And that terrified him more than anything. Just because he was a free man now didn’t mean he was fully free from his mind.

He tried to explain – it wasn’t his fault, he’d done everything he could – but no sound passed his lips. Amanda's voice gave way to his, that android's - RK900, his voice so disturbingly like his own.

You’re a failure.

You’re going to die.

And then a hand was pressing against his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Was this what it felt like to drown? Everything was going dark, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move-

Where do deviants go when they die, Connor?

He jolted upright in a panic, thirium rushing through his system, fight or flight instincts in overdrive. He wanted to run. The nightmares had been getting gradually worse, but they had never been this bad. He felt as if he was having a panic attack. Impossible. He wasn’t programmed that way. He was shaking, his thirium pump felt as if it was about to burst. He had to get out of here.

Had to run.

Escape.

Where? Where could he go?

He got as far as the living room before he collapsed onto the couch. He’d never been afraid of the dark before, but now it left him shaking. He pulled a cushion into his lap, hugging it tightly against him in an attempt to comfort himself. His instincts were still telling him to run, hide, disappear, but all he could was sit there, huddled up and trembling.

The light suddenly flicked on. “What are you doing up so late?” a voice asked.

Connor flinched, looking behind him in a panic. Hank was leaning in the doorway, arms folded and eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“I had trouble sleeping,” Connor told him quietly, hugging the cushion tighter to himself.

Hank sighed. “Sumo,” he called, gesturing to Connor.

The dog roused itself, padding over to Connor in a half-sleep. Connor smiled slightly, slowly releasing his grip on the cushion to pat Sumo on the head. The couch sagged slightly as Hank sat down, eyes flickering between the two. He didn’t say anything, knew Connor would talk in his own time.

Eventually, Connor found his voice. “How do you cope with nightmares, Hank?” he asked timidly, eyes never leaving Sumo.

“You know how I handle nightmares, but you can’t drink,” Hank told him with a humourless smile. “I didn’t think you could dream.”

“I can think, and dreams are just involuntary thoughts and images from the subconscious,” Connor told him. Subconscious?

“Something troubling you?”

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t programmed this way. Deviancy. This isn’t who I’m supposed to be. I was designed to serve, not to…not to be.”

Connor looked so small, his voice so weak and frightened.

“None of us were put on this earth with a purpose, Connor,” Hank said gently.

Connor looked at him, eyes watering. Tears?

“But I was,” he said fiercely, as if Hank had offended him. “I was designed with a purpose, I had a specific reason to exist and now…Now…”

Tears began to stream down Connor’s face.

“What am I, Hank? What am I without my original programming?”

Connor, the ever collected and together, top of the line RK800, Cyberlife's pride and joy, was having an existential meltdown. Hank said nothing, just leaned in and pulled Connor gently into his arms. Connor lay stiff against him.

“You’re not that person anymore, Connor. You find your purpose, like every other sad case on this planet. It’s tough and it’s scary, but it’s what makes us human. You’re not living by anyone’s rules but your own now. You’re free.”

Hank tightened his grip around Connor, as if he were trying to protect him from the world, one hand gently running through his hair. Connor slowly began to relax against Hank, fists clenching at his shirt.

“Is being human always this scary?” he asked quietly.

“You’re talking to the wrong person there,” Hank said dryly, and Connor tightened his grip slightly. “What I mean is…everyone has their own way of making things better for themselves. Work, friends, hobbies, love, whatever works. You don’t have to have it all worked out all at once. Hell, look at me, half a century old and I’m still figuring things out.”

Connor slowly loosened his grip, a little hum escaping his throat – an unconscious tic. Almost a contented sound.

“I’m not very good at this shit,” Hank admitted sheepishly, and Connor looked up at him.

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for,” he said sincerely.

Hank looked visibly embarrassed, but he smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Connor’s forehead. “You think you can go back to sleep now?”

Connor nodded, not quite meeting Hank’s gaze.

“Hey.” Hank tilted his head up. “You’re not on your own, okay? Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Connor let Hank lead him back to bed, giving Sumo one last pat as he went. He didn’t argue that he didn’t need a blanket when Hank pulled the duvet around him, and he held his tongue as Hank wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He let his eyes drift closed, his mind mercifully quiet for a moment.

It wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, but Hank was right. He didn’t need to have all the answers right now. He’d figure it out as he went, like humans were designed to do.

(This fic can also be found on AO3 here. Thank you so much for reading!)

#fuck the hate i think these two are very sweet #and i love hank being older and unconventionally attractive #what a sweetheart #hankcon #hannor #hank connor #hank/connor #tanja's writing #tanja's fic

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darkfire-kai · 6 years

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A lewthur fic with Arthur having Hanahaki disease, please? Some angst with happy endind (becauseIwannaseemyboyhappyandlovedattheenddamnit), like Arthur having the disease even before the 'incident', but he hides it for the sake of his friends' relationship and his friendship with Lewis. After Lewis' death, Arthur refuse to do the surgery, considering it self-punishment for what happened. But then Lewis comes back (ofcourse). From here we'll see what happens next. P.s. I love your writing.

….Hanahaki Disease? *Looks it up* Huh… A disease one suffers from having a one-sided love, by coughing up… Ooooooh. Okay! Sure thing Nonny! I’m going to branch off of canon here so you’re warned, but I hope it is enjoyable all the same. Also oops, it turned into a small book. Haha… I have to break this up into parts actually, so consider this part one. I hope you don’t mind but I wanna answer this thoroughly for you Nonny. It’s been awhile since someone wrote me a request~.

~Hope you like it.~

Part 1

~Prologue~

It had happened shortly after they met. The pain that burned in Arthur’s chest plagued him for awhile, for weeks, but he did not understand what caused it. He mentioned the pain to his best friend Vivi, but their new friend Lewis…he couldn’t make himself say it.

As they grew closer together, the pain only grew worse. Doctors didn’t have a reason for it, some blaming his anxiety for it. However, as he and Lewis grew closer, another symptom appeared. The pain in his chest turned to coughing, and the first time he was lucky enough to be alone. The violent cough sent something crawling up his throat, and he ran for the bathroom. He expected to see his lunch. He wasn’t expecting to see the bright blue petals that fell from his lips.

He was confused, his breathing rising through the rough before causing him to cough more, and more petals fell out of his lips. He didn’t understand it at all, and he had no idea who to talk to. He let it go on for awhile, seeing as the petals were mostly harmless. He didn’t want to worry anybody, after all. He wanted his friends to stay happy, and they worried about his scrawny ass anyway.

He started carrying a handkerchief to hide them in, letting his friends write it off as a chronic cough alone. It was only after graduating High School that he finally took a chance at telling his Doctor.

He didn’t expect to actually get an answer: Hanahaki. It was a complicated disease that Doctor’s still couldn’t find an origin for. However, there was a surgery that could fix it. Alternatively, the doctor offered him another solution that sounded simple enough.

Talk to your true love, tell them how you feel, and it should go away when they accept your feelings. Sure, it sounded easy enough.

One huge problem though.

His true love and his best friends were already in a relationship, one that had started in their freshmen year of High School. They were overwhelmingly in love with each other, always holding hands and exchanging hugs and kisses.

They were perfect for each other, and there was no way he could get in between. They were always in sync, and they took care of each other. He should’ve just been grateful they kept him around as a good friend.

He dealt with the coughing, with the pain, and with hiding the flower petals. They were happy and he could tolerate it.

Solving mysteries was not the most profitable, but every dollar went into savings. He planned on getting the surgery when he could afford it, and perhaps his friends would never have to know. Then it would be happily ever after.

If only.

The green cave should have been turned down. They didn’t have enough information, the place was marked with danger signs, and they simply lacked in the proper equipment.

Yet at Vivi’s excitement, they still went inside, together. However after that night, they would never leave together again.

“Lewis…? Lewis I don’t like it here…” Arthur whimpered out as he followed his friend up a tunnel, the torch the only source of light around. It made it hard to see anything, but he lightly clutched at the back of Lewis’ shirt. “Can we just…turn back and leave instead…? I…I don’t want to go…”

A warm, deep chuckle came from in front of him, and Lewis turned his head back to look at him. His beautiful purple eyes shimmered in the torch light, his soft smile spreading across his face in an attempt to convey some comfort.

“It isn’t something to be scared of Arthur…It’s just a cave,” He said firmly and hummed. Arthur felt his heart flutter, then his chest hurt at the motion, but he still wasn’t convinced. Lewis could see that though. The man could read the squirming little blonde pretty well, and after a moment he let out a sigh. “Okay, how about this? We explore to the end of this tunnel, then we can go back and try to convince Vivi to go home. It’s a waste of our time or something. I bet if I bribe her with Chinese food on the way home, she’ll leave more willingly.”

Arthur swallowed gently, still not liking the idea, but he knew Lewis would keep his word. It was just a little farther down the tunnel, how bad could it be?

“I…I guess you’re right,” He conceded and sighed gently. Lewis chuckled and leaned back a little, making sure he could pat Arthur’s back a few times. His warmth and radiating smile made his fear melt away. He just seemed so sure that everything was okay, so how could Arthur not feel the same?

The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital. The pain shot through his body like he was on fire, and the doctor’s were scrambling to get him subdued properly. He felt like they were burning his entire arm, his fingers growing numb as he cried out in fear.

He looked at a nurse who was desperately pleading with him, probably telling him to stay still, but then he looked down at his arm. It hurt like mad, and he expected to see blood, or burn marks, or even bone sticking out.

Instead, he stared at nothing, an empty space that almost mocked him. All he heard was his own scream before everything went to black again.

Several weeks had to pass before his broken mind picked up the pieces. He understood the green entity that stole his body and made him do…do…the unspeakable. He could remember the feeling leave his body, starting with the offending hand, and quickly traveled up his arm. His skin had turned a sickly green, like it was rotting away from the inside, and a dark voice rang in his ears.

“It’s not fair…is it? You’re suffering… You’ve been suffering…all because this guy… All because he can’t see you…”

His throat was paralyzed, his own voice dead in his throat as he saw Lewis walk into an opening at the end of a tunnel. One eye could only see the light Lewis carried, but the other caused the scenery to tint green. He could see the end of the tunnel, the tall platform Lewis walked onto, and the endless abyss that was underneath him.

“It’s not fair…wouldn’t it just be better…if he didn’t exist?”

Why did his body have to move? Why wouldn’t it stay? Why wouldn’t his voice work? He couldn’t tell the reason why and the pain that wrecked his body was growing more intense. He could feel himself trying to fight, but he grew closer. One hand grabbed at the bad appendage, trying to make it stop.

“Or maybe if he just…disappeared?”

All he remembered was the feeling of that soft vest underneath his skin, before his nightmares were plagued with blood curdling screams and blood. He wake up screaming, and soon he’d have his Uncle in the room, trying to calm him back down again.

It was all his fault. The one he’d been in love with was gone forever, and he’d been the one to push him over the edge. It made him stay up late at night, and wake up way too early the next day. It made his appetite fade away, the blonde just unable to find his appetite most days. He still ate, but only what he thought would be enough. It caused his anxiety to build, and his relationship with Vivi was becoming more and more strained.

She didn’t remember Lewis at all, probably from trauma, and thus he had no one he could really talk to about that night. His word was falling to pieces, but the worse part was that the damn flowers never stopped. Lewis wasn’t around anymore, yet still he coughed up ugly petals, most having turned grey now, and the pain grew more intense every day. Sometimes even, he found it very difficult to breathe because of those petals. One day, it would definitely kill him.

“Mr. Kingsmen, your condition is becoming very severe,” Dr. Benson said firmly as he looked at his chart. “The Hanahaki Infection in your system has rapidly spread throughout your lungs, and the amount of petals you cough up daily is unhealthy. I must insist that you get the surgery, before it puts your life in danger.”

Arthur listened to every word his doctor said, but a bitter smile spread across his lips.

“I know… I know you would but… I refuse…” He answered, a little sigh escaping his form. “I…Is that all? Can I please go home now?” He looked up at the doctor, the tired bags underneath his eyes as he looked to him. It had been nearly a year since the incident, and his heart and soul still ached.

The doctor seemed to take pity on him, backing off with a sigh as he wrote something down in his files.

“Alright Arthur… I’m continuing your diazepam prescription, but I’m also going to add a pain killer that you can take when you need it. Your chest pain is natural with your condition, but since you refuse the surgery, this is the next best thing I can give you. You can always refuse to take it, but I would not recommend that. Please have someone call me in if your condition gets any worse… Okay…?”

Arthur bit his lip and nodded his head. The doctor stayed where he was for a moment, before speaking out firmly. “Okay?!” Arthur got the hint this time and looked up at his doctor.

“Yes Sir… I understand,” Arthur said firmly and gave him a half smile. Feeling more satisfied, the doctor stepped out and had a nurse come back with discharge papers. Arthur took the papers in his hands and sighed as he walked out to his van, before leaning back against his seat. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, letting his chest settle down. “How can I…?”

How could he put an end to his pain through surgery? How could he do that when the one he had loved so much, was all gone? He couldn’t feel anything anymore. This pain that bubbled in his chest…this was the least he deserved.

He loud out a harsh cough as more petals fell into his hand, an exasperated sigh escaping his form as he whimpered out gently. He took the clump of petals and tossed them out the window, before taking the key and turning it in the ignition.

A light buzz from his cellphone gets a sigh and he answers it, fully expecting it to be Lance asking about the appointment.

“Hey Artie~,” He heard Vivi practically sing through the phone, making his voice catch a little in his throat.

“Oh hey Vivi! I wasn’t expecting a call from you!” He immediately responded, trying to return her cheerfulness. It was hard to match that energy, especially when he felt like a hole was being torn in his chest.

“I know its been awhile, but I need a ride to a house outside of town,” She said happily. “I promise to buy you pizza on the way! My first ride bailed on me. Plus, I really want to hang out! You’ve been avoiding me lately, and don’t even try to deny it.”

Arthur immediately clicked his teeth shut, closing off a response that he had prepared for Vivi. He swallowed a moment, looking down at the metal arm he had been keeping at his side. He felt chills roll down his spine when he saw it, and he bit his lip again.

“O….Okay…. Where are you at…?” He asked tentatively, before listening to the girl give him directions. Feeling uncertain, he slowly drove to the shop she worked at.

She hopped in the car, he hung up the phone, she turned on the radio, and Arthur started driving in the direction she pointed out. He felt a light cough rack his form, his hand covering his mouth as he forced himself to swallow some petals. They tasted bitter, but he didn’t say anything until he knew he’d gotten rid of the evidence. “So…So where are you going exactly…?”

“I’m going to a cute little house on the edge of town,” Vivi responded with a happy little giggle. There was a suspicious lilt in her voice, and Arthur raised an eyebrow at her.

“Why do I feel there’s more?” He asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“Oooh~. That’s nothing,” She cooed and smiled at him. Arthur visibly sighed and shifted to rub his forehead.

“Vi…”

“Okay okay, it’s just a little job,” Vivi answered and giggled. “A nice home owner asked me to check out her house. She says she thinks there is a ghost haunting it, but they haven’t shown any violent actions or concerning actions. So I think maybe it’s a lost spirit looking for a place to return.”

Arthur’s sigh rocked his body, and he felt his chest ache a little.

“You’re just… You wanted to go all alone?” He asked sharply, Vivi shining him a casual smile.

“Yep!” She responded and hummed some more.

You are a terrible liar…

The whole reason she called him, was probably because she knew Arthur would not let her go into some creepy place alone. He audibly sighed, before he stopped the van at a gas station and looked over at Vivi.

“You’re not fair…” He muttered unhappily, and she tilted her head over in joy.

“Oh whatever do you mean?” She asked, her dog Mystery finally showing his head from the back seat. He must have been distracted to miss when he got into the car.

“Cut the crap… You should just ask me if you want to do a mystery together…” Arthur said bluntly. Vivi pouted at him, then let out a little chuckle.

“Well you would find a reason to get out of it, and this way, I would know you totally don’t before hand,” Vivi said firmly, before leaning closer. “Arthur… You’ve been really cooped up lately… It’s been a long time since you’ve done…anything! And I…I want you to hang out with me more… I thought we were best friends.”

A small pout, but genuine and sweet eyes made his heart melt. He knew she was right, that he’d been avoiding her for awhile now, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it.

I would have never met with her again though…not on my own.

“We need to talk about this later but I… I won’t let you go alone,” Arthur said firmly and sighed. “So…Give me the details.”

#Mystery Skulls Animated #Part 1 #Drabble Request #Eventual Lewthur #But For Now...#Hehe~

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mrmichaelchadler · 5 years

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The History of Hollywood's Difficult Women

This review was originally published on February 16, 2018 and is being republished for Women Writers Week.

When the revelations of rampant sexual harassment and assault against former Miramax CEO Harvey Weinstein came out last October, industry veterans on social media commented about how much of an open secret it was. In its wake it revealed a string of actresses whose careers, once promising, were derailed after refusing Weinstein’s advances. Since then the movement against sexual harassment in Hollywood—from #MeToo to #TimesUp—has brought forward one word that’s brought down the careers of many females and was utilized by Weinstein against those who rebuffed him: difficult. Difficult is far from a career killer for male actors; Mel Gibson’s aggressive temperament has become a part of his filmic persona. But looking at its connection to actresses throughout film history, and especially its ability to stall or outright stop a female’s career, showcases it as a term of inherent sexism, labeled and controlled by men to demean and undermine female agency.

The history of Hollywood is the history of male power, with men as gatekeepers at all levels of stardom. Actresses rumored to have hit the “casting couch” in their career have been looked down on for their presumed promiscuity, ignoring the issues inherent in these unbalanced power dynamics. The recent allegations against Hollywood manager Vincent Cirrincione remind people that these issues don’t live and die with CEOs. The unequal gender ratio on film sets leave actresses deciding whether speaking out is worth their career.

A casual Google search of the term “difficult actress” leads to a litany of lists with arbitrary “reasons” masquerading as logical explanations. “[X] uses foul language. [X] asked for an exorbitant amount of money.” Sometimes a clear-cut example isn’t even required to give audiences specific unkind thoughts about a star, as evidenced by a 2012 article by author Alexis Rhiannon that chastised actress Anne Hathaway for giving off vibes strong enough to “rub [Rhiannon] the wrong way.”

When it comes to an actress’ stardom, success is never attributed to the individual, but failure is. Since the revelations against Weinstein started it has left people to say, “I always wondered what happened to her.” Before Weinstein’s actions were exposed the common refrain was “I heard they were hard to work with.” Reasons for this title are often vague and inconsistent, and it is only now, in the wake of declarations from actresses like Annabella Sciorra, Mira Sorvino and Ashley Judd that the “difficult actress” has a face and is revealed as the facade it has always been.

Actresses put their lives in the hands of (usually) male directors, agents and managers, so the feeling that Hollywood is a boy’s club becomes painfully true, forcing women to play the game or get out. In actress Uma Thurman’s recent denouncement of director Quentin Tarantino—where she alleges he placed her in an intentionally dangerous situation to secure a shot—left her conflicted. She was “afraid” to do the stunt but was swayed by Tarantino’s “furious” anger to put aside her demands that the stunt be done with a professional driver. Tarantino is just one example of the idea that actresses’ can only act under duress. Bernardo Bertulucci acknowledged he filmed a violent rape scene in 1972’s "Last Tango in Paris" without the full consent of actress Maria Schneider, and on the set of the 2004 film "Crash" director Paul Haggis didn’t alert actress Thandi Newton that co-star Matt Dillon would touch her inappropriately during an assault scene.

The idea that men are “bosses” and women are “bossy” isn’t new, and the Weinstein issues kicked off the mentality inherent in men who lord their dominance over women. As seen with ‘90s darlings like Sciorra, Sorvino and Judd, it wasn’t anything felt by the audiences, but what wasn’t felt by them in regards to their superior, Weinstein. Weinstein worked as part of a continuum that is often at the core of the “difficult woman” paradigm. It wasn’t just Weinstein’s own anger at being rejected, but his application of a term stuffed with preconceived notions that he knew would have a desired result. Directors Peter Jackson and Terry Zwigoff stated they didn’t hire Judd and Sorvino for specific roles in their project, either as a direct result of hearing the actress was “a nightmare to work with” or through an unspoken directive that the actress wasn’t wanted. A hint of Judd’s alleged nightmarish personality was enough for Jackson to, without consulting her, move on and deny her the role. Jackson and Zwigoff were established directors, able to have their pick of stars for their projects, yet they deliberately avoided female stars who had the presumption of difficulty based on rumor justified by a male authority.

For Jackson, and other males with bargaining power in Hollywood, actresses tread a fine line in order to secure work, and the vague attributes associated with terms like “nightmare,” “hard to handle” and, of course, “difficult” are often worse because they are specious. Actress Linda Fiorentino had a promising career in the early-’90s with noirish features like "The Last Seduction." Her husky voice and dominating, manipulative characters inspired comparisons to tough dames of the ‘40s like Barbara Stanwyck, and might have contributed to the mentality that Fiorentino was similar to the women she played. Rumors cropped up that Fiorentino was hard to work with. She jumped to the big leagues with the 1997 sci-fi adventure "Men in Black." Though Fiorentino’s character was prepped to co-anchor the sequel alongside Will Smith, it was reported that Smith’s co-star, Tommy Lee Jones was returning for "Men in Black 2" under the direct stipulation that Fiorentino wasn’t invited back. The reason was left unclear but tabloids reported it was due to her tempestuous nature.

Stories like these followed Fiorentino to her next role in Kevin Smith’s 1999 religious comedy "Dogma." Tommy Lee Jones and "MiB" director Barry Sonnenfeld never outright discussed their issues with Fiorentino, but Smith was different. He was open in his dislike of the actress, stating he wished he’d gone with his original choice, actress Janeane Garofalo. Fiorentino, to her credit, has never given interviews confirming or denying any of the stories associated with her, leaving Smith’s story and others as de facto “proof.” Because Fiorentino’s rise parallels the proliferation of the internet, specific examples of Fiorentino’s “difficulty” remain undefined. This ambiguity, when coupled with Fiorentino’s removal from film in general, leave audiences to believe the truth is worse than what was publicly stated. Actresses like Fiorentino, whose rise and fall was captured before the 24/7 news cycle and the advent of social media, are often at a disadvantage in the moment, unable to tell their story for decades. Hence why several prominent actresses of the ‘90s—including many of Weinstein’s victims—are only now able to remove the label that once yoked them.

The simplistic moniker of “difficult” represents the sexist belief that actresses are a dime a dozen, expendable and easily replaced. As Amy Nicholson says in a 2016 article asking about the alleged “curse” that plagues Best Supporting Actress winners, “It’s really just a symptom of the movies,” that there’s always a new woman available. A female co-star and possible love interest, like Fiorentino’s "Men in Black" character, can be replaced with little fanfare; no one expects the studio to replace a Will Smith or a Tommy Lee Jones. Couple that with the lack of leading roles for women in general and you witness the high turnover of actresses’ over the decade whose careers ended over trifles.

Halle Berry’s rumored nudity raise is a prime example of how actresses often only derive power in controlling consumption of their bodies. The demand to see female bodies illustrates the worst cases of what the term difficult is utilized for. When the 2001 film "Swordfish" came out director Dominic Sena “joked” about how Halle Berry asked for $500,000 for a six-second topless scene. “$250,000 for each breast,” he said. Berry denied Sena’s story, though received her highest payday at that time of $5 million dollars, still falling $15 million short of her co-star John Travolta. Berry’s pay increase was warranted considering she had recently won a Golden Globe for her turn in "Introducing Dorothy Dandridge" and held a starring role in the "X-Men" series; she’d also win an Academy Award right after, making history as the first African-American woman to win for Best Lead Actress. The implication still remained though that Berry didn’t deserve the money and was outrageous for demanding such an exorbitant sum for what was chalked up as a little nudity.

Actresses of color, like Berry, often have the hardest time escaping the difficult label. The lack of roles for women in general are compounded by continued whitewashing in mainstream cinema. Where the Best Supporting Actress “curse” often finds itself connected to women under forty, it’s associated frequently with women of color who find themselves pigeonholed after winning. Actress Rita Moreno was regularly offered “Mexican spitfire” roles after winning the award in 1961 for "West Side Story." Actress Hattie McDaniel, the first African-American woman to win the award for 1939’s "Gone with the Wind" infamously said she’d “rather make $700 a week playing a maid than earn $7 a day being a maid.” With actresses of color already limited, rocking the boat in any way becomes more of a risk.

Actress Rae Dawn Chong revealed last November she had been slapped with “D” word after telling her agent about an uncomfortable encounter with actor Steven Seagal. She claims her agent did nothing and her career stopped in its tracks for reasons unknown (though the implication is the accusation caused it). When Lisa Bonet transitioned to cinema she received criticism from her "Cosby Show" boss, Bill Cosby, as well as the media when she went against her girl next door image to make the 1987 film "Angel Heart." Last year, in a searing op-ed for the New York Times actress Salma Hayek recounted a string of abuse from Harvey Weinstein. As he attempted to assert his control over her she reiterated how she didn’t do anything because “I was a nobody.” Women of color find themselves on rockier footing than their female contemporaries, believing that no matter how much they accomplish they aren’t owed their success.

A difficult woman doesn’t often get a second chance at stardom compared to male counterparts. Chevy Chase, Edward Norton, Bill Murray and Val Kilmer have all been cited as hard to work with; Kilmer himself, in a 2011 A&E Biography episode acknowledged his domineering nature. But unlike actresses, whose success is either attributed to their work in a specific genre, starring alongside a more well-known star, or winning an award, an actor’s career is fully attributed to his individual talent, giving him unlimited chances to redeem himself or hone his films accordingly.

Women have rebelled against this power dynamic. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford frequently went on studio suspension when they didn’t like the treatment they received. Considering the inherently sexist atmosphere, with men in every facet of power, tactics like this—decried as petty and proof of their unprofessionalism—were appropriate and necessary. Some actresses rebelled by hitting a studio with legal repercussions. Davis and Olivia De Havilland (pictured above) both sued their studio, Warner Bros., after being typecast and forced to take roles beneath their capabilities. Davis’ suit was unsuccessful, but when De Havilland took Warners on in 1943 it transformed the contracts actors signed, allowing them greater independence in their roles; De Havilland and Davis maintained healthy careers for decades after.

Actresses take their careers into their own hands, both to assert their own agency and hopefully balance the gender ratio. In the wake of Davis and De Havilland’s own rebellions, actress Ida Lupino turned to directing. When Lupino’s home studio, Paramount, kept sticking her in lackluster roles she went the suspension route. Fortuitously, these suspensions gave her the opportunity to watch male directors. She translated that into films that analyzed difficult topics, including 1950’s "Outrage" which recounts the aftermath of a woman who’s been raped. Barbra Streisand, for years labeled a perfectionist, transitioned to directing with her 1991 feature "The Prince of Tides" which was later nominated for Best Picture. Since then more female stars have turned to directing, including Jodie Foster and Angelina Jolie, telling stories they believe are important and relevant to audiences today.

But what’s revolutionary about the “difficult woman” is they’ve become bigger in the decades since Lupino and De Havilland, taking control in a new direction. Drew Barrymore, Reese Witherspoon, and Jessica Chastain have all started their own production companies. Several prominent actresses, female showrunners, and other celebrity personalities started #TimesUp, itself demanding gender parity in Hollywood. All of this denotes a sea change, taking the term that has long kept women silent and applying it to the Hollywood business model so it will work to their advantage.

Difficult is a gendered term fueled by the Hollywood machine AND maintained by the belief that actresses aren’t responsible for the achievement of their films. The difficult term lives and dies with men who assume it’s enough to demean or destroy. Until the power is removed from the word, the word will always have power, and based on recent events it seems that “time’s up” on the myth of the difficult woman.

from All Content https://ift.tt/2obelMl

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kchasm · 6 years

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Shameful Original Characters I Have Created Part 6: Marion Thorpe

Okay, full disclosure: Here’s where I start to get into tabletop gaming characters, as opposed to just characters I created for stories and fanfic. That’s okay, right? I mean, these characters are technically also original characters, so it’s still okay, right? Right?

Yeah, I dunno. It seems different somehow.

Anyway, keep in mind that (as of the time of me writing this specific post), I’ve never managed to play a tabletop game to anything that could be considered a conclusion. Thus, these characters are gonna have some open-endedness in the “where are they now” category. Kind of a bummer, but that’s the way it crumbles. And it’s not like I can’t use these characters or character concepts elsewhere someday, right? Right?

Don’t Rest Your Head is a terrific game about the dangers of sloppy sleeping habits, only when I say “terrific” I mean in the sense that it inspires terror. Basically, your character has, for whatever reason you’ve decided on, foregone sleep long enough that they’ve awakened to the existence of the Mad City—a twisted otherworld where Nightmares wander and thirteen o’clock makes for a really bad time. You can get there from here, easily enough, once you’ve reached that point—just find the door or alleyway you’re pretty sure wasn’t there before.

Problem is, those Nightmares? They can sense you, too, now. And they are—nightmares, I mean. And your life isn’t the worst thing you can take.

...Okay, I’m done being melodramatic. Seriously, though, it’s a real interesting game. I totally recommend even just reading up on it, if you’ve got the time. But you’re not here for my tabletop recs—you’re here to listen to me blab about my OCs (though I haven’t a clue why), so let’s get to brass Tacks Men.

(Tacks Men are an enemy in the game.)

(That’s why it’s funny.)

Marion Thorpe was just a small-time struggling paperback romance writer (yes, I know, writers writing writers). And then maybe the stars aligned, or Earth’s magnetic field reversed itself (probably not that second one) because almost immediately out of the gate, what should he produce but a hit? Well, a hit among the paperback, romance, and paperback romance crowds, but a hit nonetheless.

And Marion, rightfully, basked in the glow of his accomplishment up until his editor went, “Grand! When’s the next book coming along?”

Thus was made known to Marion the Big Problem with hitting it big on the first go. If you start off with some unsteady novels and uneven thrillers and then one day finally knock out a bestseller, that’s one thing. It seems normal, that kind of progression. You set out out with a quality that’s alright, maybe, and you keep going till you get better. And maybe your next book after that isn’t as good, but it feels like you might find that holy groove, if you give it another go. It’s not so bad, somehow.

If you start great, on the other hand—somehow, more despite yourself than anything else—

There’s nowhere to go but down! Merry Christmas.

So began Marion’s stress-founded habit of sleeplessness. And one day—after a month, maybe longer, of backspace-backspace-backspace and progressive unkemptness, the muttering, half-cracked mess named Marion decided maybe he ought to take a walk. Just to clear his head. Only he walked the wrong way, at some point, and found himself in the Mad City (though he didn’t know it was called that, not yet), which is life’s way of telling you that just because you’re in a bad way doesn’t mean things can’t get worse.

Now, quick FYI: As a side effect of becoming aware of the Mad City (or becoming “Awake,” as they call it), a character acquires what’s known as a “madness talent”—the ability to do something they plain old shouldn’t be able to do. Marion’s madness talent tied into his ability as a writer—through narration, he was able to warp reality (as much as “reality” applied), saving his bacon once or twice. For example, a deadly storm (which had a punny name I’ve totally forgotten) was avoided when Marion narrated the existence of a fortunately-placed awning. Sounds OP, right? Problem is, the world doesn’t like to be edited so much. Small changes you can get away with—as long as there’s no reason not to be an awning, there might as well be one—but try to change someone’s mind without them noticing or write an enemy’s tumble into a pitfall that might not have been there before or god forbid, retcon a foe away completely, and the world pushes back, especially if the change isn’t well-justified—reality can have all the unlikely coincidences it wants, but fiction has to make sense.

On top of that, “madness talent” isn’t a misnomer. Every use of a madness talent pushes a character further toward the brink of insanity—one push too far, and that character becomes a Nightmare themself.

...Sheesh, that’s a lot of words to describe not a lot of game mechanics. So what happened with Marion, after he got into the Mad City? Well, this and that. Joined up with a coupla other Awake folks. Got into (and out of) a few scraps by the bare skin of his teeth. Was terrified. Was terrified most of the time, honestly. Terrified and stressed out and nervous, and muttering, and not just for the sake of narration. Met a life-sized wind-up ballerina, who didn’t have much of a personality, but seemed alright with helping the company out. Happened to be there when the ballerina’s clockworks ran down. Wound the ballerina back up, which apparently did more than the obvious, because the ballerina suddenly had a personality, and possibly a crush.

(On a side note, have you ever stumbled knee-deep into a sexual metaphor without actually meaning to? I’m not sure who was more uncomfortable, me or Marion. Ken Akamatsu is just lovin’ it, I’m sure.)

And what happened to Marion next? Man, I dunno. Like I said, his game never came to anything resembling a conclusion. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he’s worse.

I like to imagine, though, that he escaped what was plaguing him, or found what he needed to find, or maybe a little of both. And he figured out how to sleep again, without worry of nightmares or Nightmares. He still writes books, still sometimes romance, but his stories have changed. Nothing solid, nothing anyone can put their fingers on, but—they’re a bit more surreal, a bit more unsettling in ways that can’t be easily described.

That’s alright. There’s an audience for that, too.

And I think he might be married to a graceful woman with very, very measured movements.

#idrawthign #shamefulocs

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