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armageddon-generation · 4 years ago

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Articulating Why His Dark Materials is Badly Written

A long essay-thing with lots of specific examples and explanations of why I feel this way. Hopefully I’ve kept fanboy bitching to a minimum.

This isn’t an attack on fans of the show, nor a personal attack on Jack Thorne. I’m not looking to ruin anyone’s enjoyment of the show, I just needed to properly articulate, with examples, why I struggle with it. I read and love the books and that colours my view, but I believe that HDM isn’t just a clumsy, at-best-functional, sometimes incompetent adaptation, it’s a bad TV show separate from its source material. The show is the blandest, least interesting and least engaging version of itself it could be.

His Dark Materials has gorgeous production design and phenomenal visual effects. It's well-acted. The score is great. But my god is it badly written. Jack Thorne writing the entire first season damned the show. There was no-one to balance out his flaws and biases. Thorne is checking off a list of plot-points, so concerned with manoeuvring the audience through the story he forgets to invest us in it. The scripts are mechanical, empty, flat.

Watching HDM feels like an impassioned fan earnestly lecturing you on why the books are so good- (Look! It's got other worlds and religious allegory and this character Lyra is really, really important I swear. Isn't Mrs Coulter crazy? The Gyptians are my favourites.) rather than someone telling the story naturally.

My problems fall into 5 main categories:

Exposition- An unwillingness to meaningfully expand the source material for a visual medium means Thorne tells and doesn't show crucial plot-points. He then repeats the same thing multiple times because he doesn't trust his audience

Pacing- By stretching out the books and not trusting his audience Thorne dedicates entire scenes to one piece of information and repeats himself constantly (see: the Witches' repetition of the prophecy in S2).

Narrative priorities- Thorne prioritises human drama over fantasy. This makes sense budgetarily, but leads to barely-present Daemons, the Gyptians taking up too much screentime, rushed/badly written Witches (superpowers, exposition) and Bears (armourless bear fight), and a Lyra more focused on familial angst than the joy of discovery

Tension and Mystery- because HDM is in such a hurry to set up its endgame it gives you the answers to S1's biggest mysteries immediately- other worlds, Lyra's parents, what happens to the kids etc. This makes the show less engaging and feel like it's playing catch-up to the audience, not the other way around.

Tonal Inconsistency- HDM tries to be a slow-paced, grounded, adult drama, but its blunt, simplistic dialogue and storytelling methods treat the audience like children that need to be lectured.

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE AND INTRIGUE

The show undercuts all the books’ biggest mysteries. Mrs Coulter is set up as a villain before we meet her, other worlds are revealed in 1x2, Lyra's parents by 1x3, what the Magesterium do to kids is spelled out long before Lyra finds Billy (1x2). I understand not wanting to lose new viewers, but neutering every mystery kills momentum and makes the show much less engaging.

This extends to worldbuilding. The text before 1x1 explains both Daemons and Lyra's destiny before we meet her. Instead of encouraging us to engage with the world and ask questions, we're given all the answers up front and told to sit back and let ourselves be spoon-fed. The viewer is never an active participant, never encouraged to theorise or wonder

Intrigue motivated you to engage with Pullman's philosophical themes and concepts. Without it, HDM feels like a lecture, a theme park ride and not a journey.

The only one of S1's mysteries left undiminished is 'what is Dust?', which won't be properly answered until S3, and that answer is super conceptual and therefore hard to make dramatically satisfying

TONAL INCONSISTENCY

HDM billed itself as a HBO-level drama, and was advertised as a GoT inheritor. It takes itself very seriously- the few attempts at humour are stilted and out of place

The production design is deliberately subdued, most notably choosing a mid-twentieth century aesthetic for Lyra’s world over the late-Victorian of the books or steampunk of the movie. The colour grading would be appropriate for a serious adult drama.

Reviewers have said this stops the show feeling as fantastical as it should. It also makes Lyra’s world less distinct from our own.

Most importantly, minimising the wondrous fantasy of S1 neuters its contrast with the escalating thematic darkness of the finale (from 1x5 onwards), and the impact of Roger’s death. Pullman's books are an adult story told through the eyes of a child. Lyra’s innocence and naivety in the first book is the most important journey of the trilogy. Instead, the show starts serious and thematically heavy (we’re told Lyra has world-saving importance before we even meet her) and stays that way.

Contrasting the serious tone, grounded design and poe-faced characters, the dialogue is written to cater to children. It’s horrendously blunt and pulls you out of scenes. Subtext is obliterated at every opportunity. Even in the most recent episode, 2x7, Pan asks Lyra ‘do you think you’re changing because of Will?’

I cannot understate how on the nose this line is, and how much it undercuts the themes of the final book. Instead of even a meaningful shot of Lyra looking at Will, the show treats the audience like complete idiots.

So, HDM looks and advertises itself like an adult drama and is desperate to be taken seriously by wearing its big themes on its sleeve from the start instead of letting them evolve naturally out of subtext like the books, and dedicating lots of scenes to Mrs Coulter's self-abuse

At the same time its dialogue and character writing is comparable to the Star Wars prequels, more childish than media aimed at a similar audience - Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Avatar the Last Airbender etc

DAEMONS

The show gives itself a safety net by explaining Daemons in an opening text-crawl, and so spends less time showing the mechanics of the Daemon-human bond. On the HDM subreddit, I’ve seen multiple people get to 1x5 or 6, and then come to reddit asking basic questions like ‘why do only some people have Daemons?’ or ‘Why are Daemons so important?’.

It’s not that the show didn’t answer these questions; it was in the opening text-crawl. It’s just the show thinks telling you is enough and never shows evidence to back that up. Watching a TV show you remember what you’re shown much easier than what you’re told

The emotional core of Northern Lights is the relationship between Lyra and Pan. The emotional core of HDM S1 is the relationship between Lyra and Mrs Coulter. This wouldn't be bad- it's a fascinating dynamic Ruth plays wonderfully- if it didn't override the Daemons

Daemons are only onscreen when they serve a narrative purpose. Thorne justifies this because the books only describe Daemons when they tell us about their human. On the page your brain fills the Daemons in. This doesn't work on-screen; you cannot suspend your disbelief when their absence is staring you in the face

Thorne clarified the number of Daemons as not just budgetary, but a conscious creative choice to avoid onscreen clutter. This improved in S2 after vocal criticism.

Mrs Coulter/the Golden Monkey and Lee/Hester have well-drawn relationships in S1, but Pan and Lyra hug more in the 2-hour Golden Compass movie than they do in the 8-hour S1 of HDM. There's barely any physical contact with Daemons at all.

They even cut Pan and Lyra's hug after escaping the Cut in Bolvangar. In the book they can't let go of each other. The show skips it completely because Thorne wants to focus on Mrs Coulter and Lyra.

They cut Pan and Lyra testing how far apart they can be. They cut Lyra freeing the Cut Daemons in Bolvangar with the help of Kaisa. We spent extra time with both Roger and Billy Costa, but didn't develop their bonds with their Daemons- the perfect way to make the Cut more impactful

I don't need every single book scene in the show, but notice that all these cut scenes reinforced how important Daemons are. For how plodding the show is. you'd think they could spare time for these moments instead of inventing new conversations that tell us the information they show

Daemons are treated as separate beings and thus come across more like talking pets than part of a character

The show sets the rules of Daemons up poorly. In 1x2, Lyra is terrified by the Monkey being so far from Coulter, but the viewer has nothing to compare it to. We’re retroactively told in that this is unnatural when the show has yet to establish what ‘natural’ is.

The guillotine blueprint in 1x2 (‘Is that a human and his Daemon, Pan? It looks like it.’ / ‘A blade. To cut what?’) is idiotic. It deflates S1’s main mystery and makes the characters look stupid for not figuring out what they aren’t allowed to until they did in the source material, it also interferes with how the audience sees Daemons. In the book, Cutting isn’t revealed until two-thirds of the way in (1x5). By then we’ve spent a lot of time with Daemons, they’ve become a background part of the world, their ‘rules’ have been established, and we’re endeared to them.

By showing the Guillotine and putting Daemons under threat in the second episode, the show never lets us grow attached. This, combined with their selective presence in scenes, draws attention to Daemons as a plot gimmick and not a natural extension of characters. Like Lyra, the show tells us why Daemons are important before we understand them.

Billy Costa's fate falls flat. It's missing the dried fish/ fake Daemon Tony Markos clings to in the book. Thorne said this 'didn't work' on the day, but it worked in the film. Everyone yelling about Billy not having a Daemon is laughable when most of the background extras in the same scene don't have Daemons themselves

WITCHES

The Witches are the most common complaint about the show. Thorne changed Serafina Pekkala in clever, logical ways (her short hair, wrist-knives and cloud pine in the skin)

The problem is how Serafina is written. The Witches are purely exposition machines. We get no impression of their culture, their deep connection to nature, their understanding of the world. We are told it. It is never shown, never incorporated into the dramatic action of the show.

Thorne emphasises Serafina's warrior side, most obviously changing Kaisa from a goose into a gyrfalcon (apparently a goose didn't work on-screen)

Serafina single-handedly slaughtering the Tartars is bad in a few ways. It paints her as bloodthirsty and ruthless. Overpowering the Witches weakens the logic of the world (If they can do that, why do they let the Magesterium bomb them unchallenged in 2x2?). It strips the Witches of their subtlety and ambiguity for the sake of cinematic action.

A side-effect of Serafina not being with her clan at Bolvangar is limiting our exposure to the Witches. Serafina is the only one invested in the main plot, we only hear about them from what she tells us. This poor set-up weakens the Witch subplot in S2

Lyra doesn’t speak to Serafina until 2x6. She laid eyes on her once in S1.

The dialogue in the S2’s Witch subplot is comparable to the Courasant section of The Phantom Menace.

Two named characters, neither with any depth (Serafina and Coram's dead son developed him far more than her). The costumes look ostentatious and hokey- the opposite of what the Witches should be. They do nothing but repeat the same exposition at each other, even in 2x7.

We feel nothing when the Witches are bombed because the show never invests us in what is being destroyed- with the amount of time wasted on long establishing shots, there’s not one when Lee Scoresby is talking to the Council.

BEARS

Like the Witches; Thorne misunderstands and rushes the fantasy elements of the story. The 2007 movie executed both Iofur's character and the Bear Fight much better than the show- bloodless jaw-swipe and all

Iofur's court was not the parody of human court in the books. He didn't have his fake-Daemon (hi, Billy)

An armourless bear fight is like not including Pan in the cutting scene. After equating Iorek's armour to a Daemon (Lee does this- we don’t even learn how important it is from Iorek himself, and the comparison meant less because of how badly the show set up Daemons) the show then cuts the plotpoint that makes the armour plot-relevant. This diminishes all of Bear society. Like Daemons, we're told Iorek's armour is important but it's never shown to be more than a cool accessory

GYPTIANS

Gyptians suffer from Hermoine syndrome. Harry Potter screenwriter Steve Kloves' favourite character was Hermione, and so Film!Hermoine lost most of Book!Hermoine's flaws and gained several of Book!Ron's best moments. The Gyptians are Jack Thorne's favourite group in HDM and so they got the extra screentime and development that the more complicated groups/concepts like Witches, Bears, and Daemons (which, unlike the Gyptians, carry over to other seasons amd are more important to the overall story) needed

At the same time, he changes them from a private people into an Isle of Misfit Toys. TV!Ma Costa promises they'll ‘make a Gyptian woman out of Lyra yet’, but in the book Ma specifically calls Lyra out for pretending to be Gyptian, and reminds her she never can be.

This small moment indicates how, while trying to make the show more grounded and 'adult', Thorne simultaneously made it more saccharine and sentimental. He neuters the tragedy of the Cut kids when Ma Costa says they’ll become Gyptians. Pullman's books feel like an adult story told through the eyes of a child. The TV show feels like a child's story masquerading as a serious drama.

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA

Let me preface this by saying I genuinely really enjoy the performances in the show. It was shot in the foot by The Golden Compass' perfect casting.

The most contentious/'miscast' actor among readers is LMM. Thorne ditched the books' wise Texan for a budget Han Solo. LMM isn't a great dramatic actor (even in Hamilton he was the weak link performance-wise) but he makes up for it in marketability- lots of people tried the show because of him

Readers dislike that LMM's Lee is a thief and a scoundrel, when book-Lee is so moral he and Hester argue about stealing. Personally, I like the change in concept. Book!Lee's parental love for Lyra just appears. It's sweet, but not tied to a character arc. Done right, Lyra out-hustling Lee at his own game and giving him a noble cause to fight for (thus inspiring the moral compass of the books) is a more compelling arc.

DAFNE KEENE AND LYRA

I thought Dafne would be perfect casting. Her feral energy in Logan seemed a match made in heaven. Then Jack Thorne gave her little to do with it.

Compare how The Golden Compass introduced Lyra, playing Kids and Gobblers with a group of Gyptian kids, including Billy Costa. Lyra and Roger are chased to Jordan by the Gyptians and she makes up a lie about a curse to scare the Gyptians away.

In one scene the movie set up: 1) the Gobblers (the first we hear of them in the show is in retrospect, Roger worrying AFTER Billy is taken) 2) Lyra’s pre-existing relationship with the Gyptians (not in the show), 3) Friendship with Billy Costa (not in the book or show) 4) Lyra’s ability to befriend and lead groups of people, especially kids, and 5) Lyra’s ability to lie impressively

By comparison, it takes until midway through 1x2 for TV!Lyra to tell her first lie, and even then it’s a paper-thin attempt.

The show made Roger Lyra’s only friend. This artificially heightens the impact of Roger's death, but strips Lyra of her leadership qualities and ability to befriend anyone.

Harry Potter fans talk about how Book!Harry is funnier and smarter than Film!Harry. They cut his best lines ('There's no need to call me sir, Professor') and made him blander and more passive. The same happened to Lyra.

Most importantly, Lyra is not allowed to lie for fun. She can't do anything 'naughty' without being scolded. This colours the few times Lyra does lie (e.g. to Mrs Coulter in 1x2) negatively and thus makes Lyra out to be more of a brat than a hero.

This is a problem with telling Northern Lights from an outside, 'adult' perspective- to most adults Lyra is a brat. Because we’re introduced to her from inside her head, we think she's great. It's only when we meet her through Will's eyes in The Subtle Knife and she's filthy, rude and half-starved that we realise Lyra bluffs her way through life and is actually pretty non-functional

Thorne prioritises grounded human drama over fantasy, and so his Lyra has her love of bears and witches swapped for familial angst. (and, in S2. angst over Roger). By exposing Mrs Coulter as her mother early, Thorne distracts TV!Lyra from Book!Lyra’s love of the North. The contrast between wonder and reality made NL's ending a definitive threshold between innocence and knowledge. Thorne showed his hand too early.

Similarly, TV!Lyra doesn’t have anywhere near as strong an admiration for Lord Asriel. She calls him out in 1x8 (‘call yourself a Father’), which Book!Lyra never would because she’s proud to be his child. From her perspective, at this point Asriel is the good parent.

TV!Lyra’s critique of Asriel feels like Thorne using her as a mouthpiece to voice his own, adult perspective on the situation. Because Lyra is already disappointed in Asriel, his betrayal in the finale isn’t as effective. Pullman saves the ‘you’re a terrible Father’ call-out for the 3rd book for a reason; Lyra’s naive hero-worship of Asriel in Northern Lights makes the fall from Innocence into Knowledge that Roger’s death represents more effective.

So, on TV Lyra is tamer, angstier, more introverted, less intelligent, less fun and more serious. We're just constantly told she's important, even before we meet her.

MRS COULTER (AND LORD ASRIEL)

Mrs Coulter is the main character of the show. Not Lyra. Mrs Coulter was cast first, and Lyra was cast based on a chemistry test with Ruth Wilson. Coulter’s character is given lots of extra development, where the show actively strips Lyra of her layers.

To be clear, I have no problem with developing Mrs Coulter. She is a great character Ruth Wilson plays phenomenally. I do have a problem with the show fixating on her at the expense of other characters.

Lyra's feral-ness is given to her parents. Wilson and McAvoy are more passionate than in the books. This is fun to watch, but strips them of subtlety- you never get Book!Coulter's hypnotic allure from Wilson, she's openly nasty, even to random strangers (in 2x3 her dismissal of the woman at the hotel desk felt like a Disney villain).

Compare how The Golden Compass (2007) introduced Mrs Coulter through Lyra’s eyes, with light, twinkling music and a sparkling dress. By contrast, before the show introduces Coulter it tells us she’s associated with the evil Magisterium plotting Asriel’s death- “Not a word to any of our mutual friends. Including her.” Then she’s introduced striding down a corridor to imposing ‘Bad Guy’ strings.

Making Mrs Coulter’s villainy so obvious so early makes Lyra look dumber for falling for it. It also wastes an interesting phase of her character arc. Coulter is rushed into being a ’conflicted evil mother’ in 2 episodes, and stays in that phase for the rest of the show so far. Character progression is minimised because she circles the same place.

It makes her one-note. It's a good note (so much of the positive online chatter is saphiccs worshiping Ruth Wilson) but the show also worships her to the point of hindrance- e.g. take a shot every time Coulter walks slow-motion down a corridor in 2x2

The problem isn’t the performances, but how prematurely they give the game away. Just like the mysteries around Bolvangar and Lyra’s parentage. Neither Coulter or Asriel have much chance to use their 'public' faces.

This is part of a bigger pacing problem- instead of rolling plot points out gradually, Thorne will stick the solution in front of you early and then stall for time until it becomes relevant. Instead of building tension this builds frustration and makes the show feel like it's catching up to the audience. This also makes the characters less engaging. You've already shown Mrs Coulter is evil/Boreal is in our world/Asriel wants Roger. Why are you taking so long getting to the point?

PACING AND EDITING

This show takes forever to make its point badly.

Scenes in HDM tend to operate on one level- either 'Character Building,' 'Exposition,' or 'Plot Progression'.

E.g. Mary's introduction in 2x2. Book!Mary only listens to Lyra because she’s sleep and caffeine-deprived and desperate because her funding is being cut. But the show stripped that subtext out and created an extra scene of a colleague talking to Mary about funding. They removed emotional subtext to focus on exposition, and so the scene felt empty and flat.

In later episodes characters Mary’s sister and colleagues do treat her like a sleep-deprived wreck. But, just like Lyra’s lying, the show doesn’t establish these characteristics in her debut episode. It waits until later to retroactively tell us they were there. Mary’s colleague saying ‘What we’re dealing with here is the fact that you haven’t slept in weeks’ is as flimsy as Pan joking not lying to Mary will be hard for Lyra.

Rarely does a scene work on multiple levels, and if it does it's clunky- see the exposition dump about Daemon Separation in the middle of 2x2's Witch Trial.

He also splits plot progression into tiny doses, which destroys pacing. It's more satisfying to focus on one subplot advancing multiple stages than all of them shuffling forward half a step each episode.

Subplots would be more effective if all the scenes played in sequence. As it is, plotlines can’t build momentum and literal minutes are wasted using the same establishing shots every time we switch location.

The best-structured episodes of S1 are 1x4, 1x6, and 1x8. This is because they have the fewest subplots (incidentally these episodes have least Boreal in them) and so the main plot isn’t diluted by constantly cutting away to Mrs Coulter sniffing Lyra’s coat or Will watching a man in a car through his window, before cutting back again.

The best-written episode so far is 2x5. The Scholar. Tellingly, it’s the only episode Thorne doesn’t have even a co-writing credit on. 2x5 is well-paced, its dialogue is more naturalistic, it’s more focused, it even has time for moments of whimsy (Monkey with a seatbelt, Mrs Coulter with jeans, Lyra and Will whispering) that don’t detract from the story.

Structurally, 2x5 works because A) it benches Lee’s plotline. B) The Witches and Magisterium are relegated to a scene each. And C) the Coulter/Boreal and Lyra/Will subplots move towards the same goal. Not only that, but when we check in on Mary’s subplot it’s through Mrs Coulter’s eyes and directly dovetails into the main action of the episode.

2x5 has a lovely sense of narrative cohesion because it has the confidence to sit with one set of characters for longer than two scenes at a time.

HDM also does this thing where it will have a scene with plot A where characters do or talk about something, cut away to plot B for a scene, then cut back to plot A where the characters talk about what happened in their last scene and painstakingly explain how they feel about it and why

Example: Pan talking to Will in 2x7 while Lyra pretends to be asleep. This scene is from the 3rd book, and is left to breathe for many chapters before Lyra brings it up. In the show after the Will/Pan scene they cut away to another scene, then cut back and Lyra instantly talks about it.

There’s the same problem in 2x5: After escaping Mrs Coulter, Lyra spells out how she feels about acting like her

The show never leaves room for implication, never lets us draw our own conclusions before explaining what it meant and how the characters feel about it immediately afterwards. The audience are made passive in their engagement with the characters as well as the world

LORD BOREAL, JOHN PARRY AND DIMINISHING RETURNS

At first, Boreal’s subplot in S1 felt bold and inspired. The twist of his identity in The Subtle Knife would've been hard to pull off onscreen anyway. As a kid I struggled to get past Will's opening chapter of TSK and I have friends who were the same. Introducing Will in S1 and developing him alongside Lyra was a great idea.

I loved developing Elaine Parry and Boreal into present, active characters. But the subplot was introduced too early and moved too slowly, bogging down the season.

In 1x2 Boreal crosses. In 1x3 we learn who he's looking for. In 1x5 we meet Will. In 1x7 the burglary. 1 episode worth of plot is chopped up and fed to us piecemeal across many. Boreal literally stalls for two episodes before the burglary- there are random 30 second shots of him sitting in a car watching John Parry on YouTube (videos we’d already seen) completely isolated from any other scenes in the episode

By the time we get to S2 we've had 2 seasons of extended material building up Boreal, so when he just dies like in the books it's anticlimactic. The show frontloads his subplot with meaning without expanding on its payoff, so the whole thing fizzles out.

Giving Boreal, the secondary villain in literally every episode, the same death as a background character in about 5 scenes in the novels feels cheap. It doesn’t help that, after 2x5 built the tension between Coulter and Boreal so well, as soon as Thorne is passed the baton in 2x6 he does little to maintain that momentum. Again, because the subplot is crosscut with everything else the characters hang in limbo until Coulter decides to kill him.

I’ve been watching non-book readers react to the show, and several were underwhelmed by Boreal’s quick, unceremonious end.

Similarly, the show builds up John Parry from 1x3 instead of just the second book. Book!John’s death is an anticlimax but feels narratively justified. In the show, we’ve spent so much extra time talking about him and then being with him (without developing his character beyond what’s in the novels- Pullman even outlined John’s backstory in The Subtle Knife’s appendix. How hard would it be to add a flashback or two?) that when John does nothing in the show and then dies (he doesn’t even heal Will’s fingers like in the book- only tell him to find Asriel, which the angels Baruch and Balthamos do anyway) it doesn’t feel like a clever, tragic subversion of our expectations, it feels like a waste that actively cheapens the audience’s investment.

TL;DR giving supporting characters way more screentime than they need only, to give their deaths the same weight the books did after far less build up makes huge chunks of the show feel less important than they were presented to be.

FRUSTRATINGLY LIMITED EXPANSION AND NOVELLISTIC STORYTELLING

Thorne is unwilling to meaningfully develop or expand characters and subplots to fit a visual medium. He introduces a plot-point, invents unnecessary padding around it, circles it for an hour, then moves on.

Pullman’s books are driven by internal monologue and big, complex theological concepts like Daemons and Dust. Instead of finding engaging, dynamic ways to dramatise these concepts through the actions of characters or additions to the plot, Thorne turns Pullman’s internal monologue into dialogue and has the characters explain them to the audience

The novels’ perspective on its characters is narrow, first because Northern Lights is told only from Lyra’s POV, and second because Pullman’s writing is plot-driven, not character-driven. Characters are vessels for the plot and themes he wants to explore.

This is a fine way of writing novels. When adapting the books into a longform drama, Thorne decentralised Lyra’s perspective from the start, and HDM S1 uses the same multi-perspective structure that The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass do, following not only Lyra but the Gyptians, Mrs Coulter, Boreal, Will and Elaine etc

However, these other perspectives are limited. We never get any impression of backstory or motivation beyond the present moment. Many times I’ve seen non-book readers confused or frustrated by vague or non-existent character motivations.

For example, S1 spends a lot of time focused on Ma Costa’s grief over Billy’s disappearance, but we never see why she’s sad, because we never saw her interact with Billy.

Compare this to another show about a frantic mother and older brother looking for a missing boy. Stranger Things uses only two flashbacks to show us Will Byers’ relationships with his family: 1) When Joyce Byers looks in his Fort she remembers visiting Will there. 2) The Clash playing on the radio reminds Jonathan Byers of introducing Will to the song.

In His Dark Materials we never see the Costas as a happy family- 1x1’s Gyptian ceremony focuses on Tony and Daemon-exposition. Billy never speaks to his mum or brother in the show

Instead we have Ma Costa’s empty grief. The audience has to do the work (the bad kind) imagining what she’s lost. Instead of seeing Billy, it’s just repeated again and again that they will get the children back.

If we’re being derivative, HDM had the chance to segway into a Billy flashback when John Faa brings one of his belongings back from a Gobbler safehouse in 1x2. This is a perfect The Clash/Fort Byers-type trigger. It doesn’t have to be long- the Clash flashback lasted 1:27, the Fort Byers one 55 seconds. Just do something.

1x3 beats into us that Mrs Coulter is nuts without explaining why. Lots of build-up for a single plot-point. Then we're told Mrs Coulter's origin, not shown. This is a TV show. Swap Boreal's scenes for flashbacks of Coulter and Asriel's affair. Then, when Ma Costa tells Lyra the truth, show the fight between Edward Coulter and Asriel.

To be clear, Thorne's additions aren’t fundamentally bad. For example, Will boxing sets up his struggle with violence. But it's wasted. The burglary/murder in 1x7 fell flat because of bad editing, but the show never uses its visual medium to show Will's 'violent side'- no change in camera angle, focus, or sound design, nothing. It’s just a thing that’s there, unsupported by the visual language of the show

The Magisterium scenes in 2x2 were interesting. We just didn't need 5 of them; their point could be made far more succinctly.

In 2x6 there is a minute-long scene of Mary reading the I Ching. Later, there is another scene of Angelica watching Mary sitting somewhere different, doing the SAME THING, and she sees an Angel. Why split these up? It’s not like either the I Ching or the Angels are being introduced here. Give the scene multiple layers.

Thorne either takes good character moments from the books (Lyra/Will in 2x1) or uses heavy-handed exposition that reiterates the same point multiple times. This hobbles the Witches (their dialogue in 2x1, 2 and 3 literally rephrases the same sentiment about protecting Lyra without doing anything). Even character development- see Lee monologuing his and Mrs Coulter's childhood trauma in specific detail in 2x3

This is another example of Thorne adding something, but instead of integrating it into the dramatic action and showing us, it’s just talked about. What’s the point of adding big plot points if you don’t dramatise them in your dramatic, visual medium? In 2x8, Lee offhandedly mentions playing Alamo Gulch as a kid.

I’m literally screaming, Jack, why the flying fuck wasn’t there a flashback of young Lee and Hester playing Alamo Gulch and being stopped by his abusive dad? It’s not like you care about pacing with the amount of dead air in these episodes, even when S2’s run 10 minutes shorter than S1’s. Lee was even asleep at the beginning of 2x3, Jack! He could’ve woken from a nightmare about his childhood! It’s a little lazy, but better than nothing.

There’s a similar missed opportunity making Dr Lanselius a Witchling. If this idea had been introduced with the character in 1x4, it would’ve opened up so many storytelling possibilities. Linking to Fader Coram’s own dead witchling son. It could’ve given us that much-needed perspective on Witch culture. Imagine Lanselius’ bittersweet meeting with his ageless mother, who gave him up when he reached manhood. Then, when the Magisterium bombs the Witches in 2x2, Lanselius’ mother dies so it means something.

Instead it’s only used to facilitate an awkward exposition dump in the middle of a trial.

The point of this fanfic-y ramble is to illustrate my frustration with the additions; If Thorne had committed and meaningfully expanded and interwoven them with the source material, they could’ve strengthened its weakest aspect (the characters). But instead he stays committed to novelistic storytelling techniques of monologue and two people standing in a room talking at each other

(Seriously, count the number of scenes that are just two people standing in a room or corridor talking to each other. No interesting staging, the characters aren’t doing anything else while talking. They. Just. Stand.)

SEASON 2 IMPROVEMENTS

S2 improved some things- Lyra's characterisation was more book-accurate, her dynamic with Will was wonderful. Citigazze looked incredible. LMM won lots of book fans over as Lee. Mary was brilliantly cast. Now there are less Daemons, they're better characterised- Pan gets way more to do now and Hester had some lovely moments.

I genuinely believe 2x1, 2x3, 2x4 and 2x5 are the best HDM has been.

But new problems arose. The Subtle Knife lost the central, easy to understand drive of Northern Lights (finding the missing kids) for lots of smaller quests. As a result, everyone spends the first two episodes of S2 waiting for the plot to arrive. The big inciting incident of Lyra’s plotline is the theft of the alethiometer, which doesn’t happen until 2x3. Similarly, Lee doesn’t search for John until 2x3. Mrs Coulter doesn’t go looking for Lyra until 2x3.

On top of missing a unifying dramatic drive, the characters now being split across 3 worlds, instead of the 1+a bit of ours in S1, means the pacing/crosscutting problems (long establishing shots, repetition of information, undercutting momentum) are even worse. The narrative feels scattered and incohesive.

These flaws are inherent to the source material and are not the show’s fault, but neither does it do much to counterbalance or address them, and the flaws of the show combine with the difficulties of TSK as source material and make each other worse.

A lot of this has been entitled fanboy bitching, but you can't deny the show is in a bad place ratings-wise. It’s gone from the most watched new British show in 5 years to the S2 premiere having a smaller audience than the lowest-rated episode of Doctor Who Series 12. For comparison, DW's current cast and showrunner are the most unpopular since the 80s, some are actively boycotting it, it took a year-long break between series 11 and 12, had its second-worst average ratings since 2005, and costs a fifth of what HDM does to make. And it's still being watched by more people.

Critical consensus fluctuates wildly. Most laymen call the show slow and boring. The show is simultaneously too niche and self-absorbed to attract a wide audience and gets just enough wrong to aggravate lots of fans.

I’m honestly unsure if S3 will get the same budget. I want it to, if only because of my investment in the books. Considering S2 started filming immediately after S1 aired, I think they've had a lot more time to process and apply critique for S3. On the plus side, there's so much plot in The Amber Spyglass it would be hard to have the same pacing problems. But also so many new concepts that I dread the exposition dumps.

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dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade · 5 years ago

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Reunion

Request: The reader and him had dated when they was 17-19 but she moved to UK for studying in royal academy of music and they "broke up". so when they are 23 they meet again at some event/party because of their careers A/N: Guess I really let myself go for it in this one lol. @pennylane-gvf I hope you like it! Critiques and comments are welcome Word count: 2.9 K Warnings: drinking, steamy stuff (nothing too explicit)

To be added to the permanent taglist, DM me or leave an ask!

Fanfiction Masterlist

You sat down at the long dinner table as you took a sip of your clear glass filled only up to a quarter of its full capacity with cognac. Your eyes wandered around the room filled with dim lighting. People started gathering around the table and in the following minutes it was almost full. You downed the rest of your drink and raised your hand to ask for a refill from the waiter.

About the same time the waiter came back with a bottle to pour in your glass, the seats across the table from you have been occupied. You didn’t pay much attention to the people who sat down, you just mumbled a polite “good evening” and told the waiter to stop pouring the drink only when the glass was filled a little bit more than half.

The woman sitting to your right extended her arm towards you, holding her glass in it. You raised yours and lightly touched glasses with smiles on your faces, as a sign of good luck. She was your manager. The person who helped you to get where you were today. Without her you wouldn’t have made it out of the underground British music scene and for sure you couldn’t have been at this beautiful party with all kinds of artists.

You drank a sip or two from the freshly poured cognac, but you decide to hold it for a moment since your stomach was burning from the alcohol and lack of food.

“Hello,” spoke the man sitting exactly across the table from you. Your head shot up and glanced at the man. Short and curly hair, bright eyes and a wide smile – that would sum him up. “Sorry to interrupt you, I just wanted to say I am a big fan of yours and your work,” he continues and reaches out to shake your hand. “I am Josh Kiszka.”

Your face brightens up at his words. You never found the words to explain the joy that filled your whole heart, soul and being when someone told you they enjoyed your work. “Pleased to meet you, Josh and thank you for your kind words. I am making the music I’d love to hear myself, because if you won’t do it, who will?” you smile.

“That is very true, I must admit. This is what set us out for the first time – the will to create something that is missing from this world and spread out the word that this place is beautiful and love isn’t to be ignored,” Josh spoke, moving his hands a lot. “Shit, sorry, I forgot. This is my band. Daniel Wagner, here to my left, and next to him is my baby brother, Sam. To my right is my baby twin, Jake.”

“Jake…” you repeat and your head shots in his direction. Hair dark brown, flowing down his shoulders, a little bit curled at the ends. He didn’t seem to quite pay attention to what was going on. On the contrary, he seemed totally spaced out, being caught in a trance-like state, staring at the amber gold liquid flowing in his glass while swirling it around. His shirt was neatly arranged, but the top three or four buttons were undone (putting it in another manner – his shirt was held together by only three buttons), slightly revealing his chest and a necklace falling down on his chest. On the middle finger of his right hand, you saw a simple black ring, no inscriptions or decorations on it.

Your eyes wandered on the man to Josh’s right side for a few moments, but you took in every single detail. The dark brown eyes, completely lost, the hair falling down, his prominent cheekbones and jawline (or maybe that was just the lighting’s fault, who knows). Your eyes widened as you realized.

“Jake!” you speak up, snapping the man out of his trance. He was now looking at you, probably doing to you the same thing you did to him a couple of moments ago. You saw his eyes wandering all over your face, then over your hands, clothing, taking in every little detail. By the look on his face you could tell he had the same realization as you did.

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice a little bit hoarse, probably from not exchanging any words for quite a while. He cleared his throat and tilted his head sideways, as if to get a better angle of you.

“Flesh and bones,” you let out a nervous laugh and realize that you actually knew all of the boys from back in the day, when you dated Jake.

You ate dinner in silence. I mean as silent as it can get at a table with so many people. You changed a few words with your manager, and you kept it simple and professional with the boys across the table. You threw an occasional glance over to Jake, but quickly looked away every time he caught you looking. Which was really… every time you looked. It didn’t take you that much time to down the drink down your throat, leaving at first a burning sensation on its way down. You repeated the same thing one more time and then you decided it was time to stop. You didn’t want to get drunk and do something embarrassing or that you would regret.

Once you finished up with the dinner, you excused yourself and sat up to the table. You walked in the other room, which was filled with people more or less drunk, dancing to the music blaring through the speakers. You were honestly tempted to join this dancing mass, but you weren’t in the necessary mood, so you just leaned against the wall in a corner less lighted by the stroboscopic lights, changing colors every single damn second.

You saw the door to the dining room opening and you saw someone walking around aimlessly at first, but then straight to you. You knew it was him and you couldn’t run from this. This was necessary. Your breakup with Jake hurt your soul as much as it benefited your career. It still hurt, even after 4 years since it happened. You loved him truly. He was your first real boyfriend – the first one to treat you accordingly. You needed to do this. To heal your soul, ease the pain, plus Jake deserved it. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t deserve to be broken up with. After all, you were the one who left Michigan, all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, in the United Kingdom to study music.

“Hey,” Jake spoke hesitantly once he got next to you.

Your eyes met his and you could see all the memories from the past that you wanted so badly to forget. Your heart slightly fluttered and you felt your throat drier than ever, needing to drink something immediately.

“Hi, Jake,” you struggle to get out.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks and his fingers brushed yours and you quickly nodded. “Great, let’s go in the lobby of my hotel, we can get a drink and catch up.”

In no time you got to the hotel where Jake stayed. It was downtown, not far from the one where you were staying. The lobby was really simplistic, but sophisticated. It really gave you a nice feeling. There was a light cherry blossom scent flying in the air, making it feel even better. You and Jake chose two armchairs facing each other, in the corner of the room.

Jake ordered for the two of you some rose wine. He still remembered that it was your favorite drink.

“If somebody would’ve told me that I’d meet you at the party this evening, I’d straight up laugh about it and say they’re delusional,” you chuckle nervously as you watch the waiter pour half a glass of wine, the color of roses.

“Tell me about it,” he answered and played with the black ring on his finger. “So, please, do tell me what has been up with you since we parted ways,” he continued, his voice getting deeper at the end of the sentence.

“Well, let’s see…” you say and start browsing through the library of memories in your head. “I left Michigan, and as I said, I went to the Academy in London where I got that scholarship. While there, I got in this band – it was a music academy and I guess you can assume how many bands there were – and we played in pubs, no success, but we did what we loved. One night, I took the lead for a single song, I played guitar and vocals, and Camelia, my manager, the lady you saw with me, she saw me and she took me in and cared for me, and brought me where I am today,” you summed up the past 4 years of your life.

Jake smiled at the mentions of the guitar. He thought of the exact same thing you thought when saying it – the memory of him teaching you how to play guitar.

“And what can you tell me about yourself?” you ask, your eyes glued to the man in front of you. Man, he looked so damn good. You really liked what he did with his hair and his new style (but you could still see hints of the old one, which made it even better).

“Well, what can I say…” he pondered for a moment and finished the wine in his glass. He reached over to grab the bottle and pour himself another half a glass and poured you a little more, since you had only about two sips left. “I am in the same band as before and actually I am quite disappointed you didn’t recognize Josh, nor any of them!”

“What? Jake! He introduced himself to me and said he was my fan!” you protest and laugh, realizing it was one of Josh’s old tricks to get your attention.

“You’re saying it like you don’t know him,” Jake rolled his eyes with a smile blooming in the corner of his mouth. “And he really does enjoy your work, he has been rubbing it in my face since day one he discovered you.”

“An honor,” you laugh with a dramatic hand gesture. “But please, do continue your story.”

“Alright, so we just kept the hope, we wrote, we recorded. We really hit it off with Highway Tune. After that, things followed their natural course, really,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Congratulations!” you smiled. You were genuinely happy to have met Jake again and you were proud of him and his band.

“Thank you,” he nodded. “God, don’t you ever miss the day that have passed?” he spoke moments later, like he was caught in the world of the dreams.

“Yeah, I miss them…” you ponder. “And I miss you,” you add, even surprising yourself with your boldness. Maybe the wine (and the few glasses of cognac) gave you the strength you needed to speak out your mind that way.

Jake looked at you and blinked a couple of times. You could tell he didn’t expect that to happen.

“Oh shit, I am sorry,” you say as you notice his reaction. “I am so, so sorry, I didn’t think this through,” you add, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“No, it’s alright, really. I feel the same way, Y/N. I have missed you since day one and nothing could fill that void.” Jake said and almost as if you were commanded with a remote control from somewhere, you sat up and walked next to Jake.

Jake sat up and you felt his fingers brush against yours. He was only a little taller as you, but you always considered yourself on eye level with him, but now it felt like he was towering over you. When Jake eventually got a proper hold of your hand, he leaned in, closer to you, while snaking the other hand around your waist. You felt the tension building up between the two of you; the tension and the anticipation.

All the wait has finally been rewarded when Jake’s lips pressed against yours. Everything felt like it was still those old days. The same faint taste of cigars and mint, now only with a taste of wine, too. You let yourself melt away into the kiss and be washed over by all the memories. Your first kiss underneath the delicate moonlight, just like in the movies; your first date which was a cheap one, but come on, you were two teenagers head over heels in love with each other, so who gave a damn about the price?

Your breathing got heavier and needier. Four years you’ve missed his touch. It was like he had put a spell on you.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Jake whispered in your ear, his breath getting heavier as well.

You nod and follow Jake who was already two steps ahead of you. In no time you were in his room. It was really spacious. You eyed the double bed.

“Jake, is there someone else?” you ask. You didn’t want this unless it was real and you were sure that you didn’t get in the middle of his possible other relationship.

“No, it’s not,” he shook his head and walked towards you with small and steady steps. You didn’t know why, but you backed up step by step until your back hit the wall.

Jake’s fingers swiftly switched on the light at the entrance in the room. It was a rather dim light, but enough to see what you were doing and where you were going. You looked over his face and you felt your knees and joints turning into jelly.

Jake didn’t hesitate to come near you. With a hand he cupped your cheek and with the other one he caressed the other cheek. A smile bloomed on his lips. He was so happy he met you again, despite all the thoughts that he had lost you forever.

“Do you want to do this?” Jake asked, his lips only millimeters away from yours. You hum an affirmative answer and the next thing you know, Jake’s hand helped you wrap your legs around his waist, while pressing messy kisses on the lobe of your ear, and slowly down the neck, until it met the fabric of your dress.

That’s when he stopped and took you to his bed. In the moment you touched the fluffy sheets with your back, Jake was already back at it.

Four years of failed relationships and meaningless kisses. You didn’t even realize until now how much you wanted it to be Jake instead of all those similar, yet unknown faces. No one in all those years managed to make you feel as good as Jake did now with only a touch of his lips.

Jake’s fingers roamed around the fabric of your dress, trying to locate the zipper, his lips not leaving yours, not even for a single moment. He was as lost in your touch and desperate as you were. He had spent too much time away from you to afford to slow down now.

You didn’t know how he managed – even back then – Jake earned control of the kiss, even though he was still busy pulling down the zipper. He was doing it painfully slow, probably only to tease you, but the one who he was teasing the most was himself.

When the zipper finally reached the end, Jake’s hands ran on the sides of your body, as if trying to remember the shape of it, alongside with every little detail. Everything happen at such slow speed that a needy moan escaped your lips, earning a groan from Jake.

A moment later, Jake was already back on kissing you, starting from the jawline, down to the collarbone, while with his hand he slowly removed the dress and kicked off his shoes. He did take his time, working on every kiss and slightly biting here and there.

You were already driven out of your mind. “Jake,” you whisper hoping that you’d get his attention.

“What?” he answers and goes right back at it.

“Please.”

“Time makes perfect,” he answered and you could feel the smirk on his lips against the sensitive skin on your neck. You only groan as an answer and push yourself into the middle of the bed.

Jake took off your high heels and joined you in no time. Jake was laying on top of you, your legs on both sides of him. The dress was gone by now, so Jake took the trail of kisses over your chest and down your tummy, stopping right underneath the bellybutton. Through your whole body flowed something electric. Your hands traveled to Jake’s hair, roaming through it and tugging at it a little bit.

“I like what you did to your hair,” you speak and gasp loudly as Jake proceeded to kiss the inner part of your thighs, squeezing them here and there.

Since the early days Jake loved teasing you with everything he could and time didn’t change that. He stopped in between your thighs and he looked at you straight in the eyes. You could see the familiar gleam of his eyes that has quickly been replaced with a darker look, a look of lust.

He returned up, sliding his hands underneath your back while keeping you occupied with needy kisses in which he told you without words how much he needs you and before you realized, your bra was unclasped and tossed aside.

“God how I missed you,” he groaned. “Please never leave again.”

Tags: @myownparadise96, @satans-helper, @jeordinevankiszka, @littlegeekwonder, @songbirdkisses, @pomegranatecurses, @umbriellethenightfall, @freeeshavacadoo, @karrotkate, @mountainofthesunn

#god id sell my soul for jake #jake kiszka owns my ass #greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fic #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #imagine #requested #writing #fanfiction

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clrecrossing · 4 years ago

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Art Contest

Setting up a big art contest for everyone in New Hope hasn’t been easy. Isabelle thankfully has lots of experience organizing events, and the community immediately started working together to figure out how we would run it. I, Isabelle, Digby, Blathers, and Tom Nook would work together to judge the pieces submitted. We posted announcements all over town so people would have time to prepare their pieces, and then on the 10th we cleared out the plaza and set up displays for everyone to put up their art.

Everyone was really excited. Merengue was shy about displaying her own art. O’Hare was more than happy to show off his own and brag about it to everyone who came by. Eventually everyone who entered the contest had put their piece up, and then they were free to roam and look at what everyone had done.

Everyone loved it. They talked with each other about the various pieces of art done. Merengue, Canberra, and Hazel had actually joined up to make treats for everyone to snack on as they looked around. The event was so lively. Everyone loved making the art and getting together to have fun together. Puddles’ idea was a huge success.

Eventually it came time for the judges to look around at the individual pieces.

First we came around to Rodeo and his display.

His drawing of a rocket heading to the moon on the surface of an unknown planet was beautiful. Rodeo shyly mumbled that he’d thought a lot about what would be good to enter. He loved space, and he thought that maybe something that captured the fantasy of a trip through it would be good. I agree that looking at it captures the feel of looking out on an alien world and setting out to explore.

Puddles had done an amazing painting of the sun rising over the ocean. Puddles said it wasn’t much. Looking at it though I have to say that it’s absolutely gorgeous, and beyond anything that I could create myself. It’s clear that this is where her passion really lies. She’s got a lot of talent. Isabelle asked her how she did it, and Puddles said she’d just seen it one morning and known that’s what she wanted to do for the contest.

Fang’s own submission was very simplistic. Looking at it gave me a rather odd feeling. What was it supposed to be? A portrait of some sort? But the inner drawing was simplistic as well, to the point of not seeming to be anything in particular. Fang explained to all of us that he’d wanted to capture the focus of looking at someone. I wonder if this drawing really does capture what he feels when he’s looking at someone else. If the portrait is supposed to be a stand in for almost anyone, the more simplistic inner drawing does make sense.

Merengue was very bashful about her own offering. It was a design she’d come up with for a cake. She admitted that sometimes she just sketched out designs for her pastries later, and hoped that we didn’t think too badly of her submission for being more of a sketch of a plan than actual art. We all assured her that it was fine. Tom Nook joked that a bribe of an actual slice of cake would be acceptable as well.

Hans’s own submission was as stylish and detailed as his own passion. He had picked a clock that he had picked up some time ago and decided to do a drawing of it. Hans admitted that he wasn’t very satisfied with it, as the drawing couldn’t capture the depth of the history of the clock. Blathers said he thought the detailing was rather fine.

Blather’s little sister Celeste was the next contestant. She was almost hopping with excitement to talk with the judges and show what she had created.

She had wanted to do a picture of the night sky with her favorite constellation. She loved Gemini and liked the idea of doing a piece of the twin constellation. Digby joked asking if she was trying to appeal to him and Isabelle with that. Celeste flustered some and admitted that she’d actually been thinking of herself and her brother, despite them not being twins. Blathers gave her a huge hug.

Pancetti revealed that she had come up with a design for a dress. It wasn’t something that was actually finished of course, as making such things wasn’t for someone like her. She did think that it rather fit the quaint rustic feel of New Hope. I have to agree that the design is rather nice, even if I don’t like how Pancetti worded her ideas for it.

Hans was super proud to show off his art of a bunch of fireworks. He explained in great detail his passion for color and standing out, and that fireworks represented him perfectly. What else could capture his style and flash? The chalk art was nice. I don’t think it was quite as flashy as O’Hare imagined it would end up though.

Croque’s submission was shockingly basic, just the kanji for “oneself”. He seemed quite proud of it and told us that it represented what he thinks everyone should strive for: being centered in one’s self. Its symbolism is nice. I guess I should have expected something simple with a lot of thought in it from Croque. He’s no artist, but he is a deep thinker.

Hazel’s submission was as colorful and crazy as she herself is. It was busy and had so much going on in it it was hard to keep track of. Hazel talked at a mile a minute about how much trouble she’d had trying to settle on one thing, before finally deciding that all of it would be fine to include. The more there was the better after all, right?

Canberra’s submission was a design idea of color she’d been working on. She told us that she’d been playing with shapes and how they interacted, and decided that something showing off colors layering over each other in interesting ways would be a good submission. Blathers Isabelle and Digby all seemed to agree with that at least, pouring over the art with a sharp intensity.

Last of all was Leif’s submission. It was very simple. You could tell that a lot of time and effort had gone into this flower. It wasn’t complex, but what there was had been carefully layered with color to show off. Leif told us that he had wanted to share something that made him happy. I had to give him a hug for that.

Now that we had looked at everything we had to actually judge it. Let me tell you, doing that was hard! Puddles was clearly by far the best artist in the group, but would it really be fair to judge by that standard? Our entire town is so diverse. Not everyone chooses to do art, but everyone has something they shines with. Leif’s love of gardening, Merengue’s treats and pastries, Hazel’s crafts, Hans’ collection of antiques. Tom Nook suggested that we judge by the heart of things instead.

Puddles was rewarded first place. She puts a lot of heart and love into her creations. She was almost in tears over winning and promised us all that she’d never forget us. There was a lot of congratulations and hugs from everyone. Puddles had come back especially for this event, and we knew we likely wouldn’t see her again for a long time.

Hans came in second place. Tom told Hans that he was impressed by his choice in what to create, and Blathers complimented Hans heavily on his detail. I told him he’d have to tell me the story behind the clock after.

Canberra came in third place for her piece. She was shocked by the win, like she’d been expecting someone else to come in and say that it should go to someone else instead. Everyone told her that they loved her colors. Even Pancetti said it, though Pancetti was clearly miffed by the fact that she hadn’t won despite her “clearly superior design”.

We kept things out for the rest of the day for everyone to browse before moving the submissions to a special exhibit in the museum for everyone in New Hope to be able to go to and see the pieces. Hopefully we’ll be able to run another art contest in the future. Everyone had so much fun.

Credit for creating Rodeo and Hazel’s art goes to dderidex from Discord

Credit for Puddles’ sunrise painting to @summerartist

Credit for Merengue’s cake design goes to CatWithHumanHands from Discord

Credit for Hans’ antique clock drawing goes to Cessi from Discord

Credit for Celeste’s constellation art goes to emmy451 from Discord

Credit for Pancetti’s dress design to @gleefully-macabre

Credit for Leif’s flower to @easydias

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the-fiction-witch · 6 years ago

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Doctor And Witch P2

MOVIE: MAZE RUNNER AU X SLEEPY HOLLOW COUPLE: NEWT X READER RATING: SWEET

I sat listening to the simplistic sounds of the horse shoe’s clacking as they went from step to step of the Ill tread walks across the countryside. The wind rushing through an open shutter on the other side of the carriage, the rain hammering the roof in tiny abrupt sections at a time, it all Marrying into a sweet and yet foreboding harmony. As I observed the skies turn dimmer and felt as if the world passed me by, before retorting my view to the carriage interior.

The red seats coordinating the curtains around the windows all closed, except the one beside me and the one where the window was stuck open. It being blown by the wind and rain from outside, the black Paint of the interior wall beginning to flake and fall to the dark wooden floor many pieces of the wall now laid on the floor. Someone before I arrived clearly tried to sweep them away but had in fact just pushed them more under the seats. I opened my pocket watch to check the time, not long now before I reach The Town, I kept looking out the window hoping to see some remains of civilization yet all I saw was the infinite stretching fields of Yellow and green going across the horizon so far it was as if they met with the sky.

Until the driver’s speech cut the melody of the realm

“Approaching Mulbury Glade sir, be about thirty Minutes till I drop you at the gates!” He shouted his voice hoarse and bitter but I understand why I wouldn’t want to be out in all this weather,

“Thank you” I reply not really wanting to speak but feeling rude for not replying to him as he had taken me so far already

“So… Why are you moving all the way out here to the middle of known here? Mr Newton” The driver urged

“I would rather not discuss it if it’s all the same to you, and It’s Dr Newton” I return

“Oh My apologies Doctor” He answered and I turned my full attention to the window and the melody again. Of the wind spreading through the open window, the rain upon the roof, the clacking of the horses metal shoes upon the road, the flutter of the curtain of the open window, the simple creaking of the carriage as it went down the road and the ticking of my watch still open in my hand.

When In the calm I caught a ... a voice on the breeze, the voice delicate as silk and the words flowing like honey, the voice seemed to be beckoning me the closer we got to the town. The more It felt this voice just outside I kept looking but I saw no one. Until, we were about to reach the gates and I saw a woman dressed in a Black stood upon the hill looking down on the gates a blood-covered white rose in her hands and a huge cape and hood of Black velvet over her shoulders I could not see her face because of the hood I tried to look more, but the carriage stopped giving me a jolt forward and when I sat back normally again she was gone. So I put my watch back into my pocket and grabbed my bag stepping out to see this place the rain now being to stop yet the sky stayed a dull grey, my feet planted on the gravel road

“I will deliver your things to your home doctor” The driver informed me as I walked to the front of the carriage

“Thank you” I answer nodding my head to him and just as I finished the last word he whipped the horses and went off. I stood by the gates looking into The town, The town's gate at metal shaped into lettering reading Mulbury Glade badly the letters morphed and strange a few rusting so much the bottom of the B had come off and was long gone. Many houses and stores lined the main street and just at the end stood a white old stone church, everywhere looked like it had been long abandoned past the church the road split one going off to lead to more homes and a tavern and the other lead somewhere off into the hills just within the hills stood a very popular graveyard, many headstones laid there. I walked down the empty sinister street only the crackling of the gravel beneath my feet could be heard echoing through the dark houses.

Until I heard the voice again seeming closer and sweeter than ever I turned to look around to see If I could find the owner of the voice. But it stopped so I turned back to the church and there stood a woman. A Woman in a dark blue dress draping loosely off her wide curvaceous frame, her long curly brown hair sat on her shoulders, her face seeming innocent and gentle yet strange, her eyes Green and bright, her hands behind her back as she stood and smiled at me.

“We were not expecting you yet a while” she grinned her voice as smooth as milk and honey she sounded like the voice that was calling me here but something about her just... made me feel strange

“My apologies Madam, I was here earlier than expected” I answer “where is the rest of the town?” I ask her

“At a funeral on the hill”, she replied sadly “I didn’t know her, and the Town prefers to see me away from the graveyard” She clarified

“Very well Miss” I nod

“You're the new doctor, aren’t you?” she challenged with a smile and I nod “Good, I hope to be seeing much of you Dr Newton” she beamed

“How- How did you know my name?” I urge her

“It’s on your carry bag” she smiled and I glance down and remember my bag as my last name and initial on it

“Oh…Of course, Pardon me, Madam, I thought-“I begin slightly laughing

“That I had played a tick?” she interrupted making me stop short a little surprised by her “I get that a lot” she giggled “It would Shock you how much the town accuses me of such things” she laughed “you would think me wicked” she smiled simply

“I could never madam,” I tell her not sure what to think of this girl “Oh, how rude of me, I never asked your name?”

“y/n, y/n Y/L/N” she grinned holding out one of her hands so I take it and politely kiss her hand making her smile wider as I did I noticed her hands were scared as If had been cut many, many times over so much they had not healed for a very long time and on her wrist a mark it wasn’t a scar it was black as night a symbol what I didn’t understand before she returned it behind her “I can take you to your new home and office If you wish, it will be hours before they all return” she offered

“Oh yes thank you” I smile to her

so she happily begins to walk leading me off towards the graveyard the road still an empty, I looked up to see a large number of people around a stone with a man dressed in white stood reading to them all he looked down to me for a second then returned to his readings.

Until at last she stopped in front of a house, the house beside the graveyard it was old and looked worn the wood tint on the outside beginning to wash off with every rain that came, the windows covered so much with dust nothing could be seen inside the door a dark red with a handle and knock of silver, beside the door was a small seat big enough for two to sit outside on the patio, just above the patio hung a sign reading doctor’s office with a small image of a needle. She walked up to the door unlocking it with a key from the ring of Keys In the pocket of her dress unlocking the door and opening it letting light flood in.

It was a small room with a black stair case to one side as well as one door then another much further down the corridor and then one immediately to the right all my bags and such from the carriage had been placed just inside the door she then opened the door to the right and it was a room with a huge sink and operating table as well as a light high above the table and many tables and other equipment around it “This is the Office” she explained before leaving and going to the other door, to a room with beautiful blue and purple striped wall paper and a large fireplace and a book shelf as well as two rather large chairs with a table in the centre of the table “The living room” she smiled before leaving again going down to the door down the hall. It opened to a huge purple dining room with a large candle chandelier above the table the table was huge and painted to look black it had two large chairs one at each end and then three lesser chairs each side and another door was just though that room and she opened that up and it was a very simple little kitchen “dining room and kitchen” she explained "It also has the door out to the garden and out there is down to the basement"

Before she was going out again and leading me upstairs them creaking every step she took and every step I followed till we reached a landing with three doors she opened one immediately “bathroom” she said and it clearly was a very small wash room then she went down to the one further away and it was a room with a crib and a few other children orientated objects “sorry this is meant to be the study but the last doctor had a wife and child with him” she described

“It’s alright, I’m sure I will get to sorting it eventually” I shrug and she took me to the last room it being the biggest in the house a room with a large window and a window seat the walls a dark blue and the floor covered mostly with a well-aged rug it had a black wood dresser as well as a coat rack by the door and a large double bed with blankets and such as already set out for me. “this is amazing” I smiled

“It’s quite alright, most of it was left behind by the last doctor” she shrugged

“What happened to him?” I ask her

“We don’t know, one day they just got a few things together and left, we never saw them again” she explained

“Oh my, well I won’t do that,” I laugh setting my bag down on the bed

“Here is the key” she smiled taking it from her pocket and slipping it into my hand “I best be going, Akiko will worry if I don’t get home soon” she urged

“Who’s Akiko?” I ask her

“My cat, she gets worried if I’m out for too long without her” she smiled

“Oh, I love cat’s, I would be thrilled to meet her” I smile at her

“I’m sure she would Love to meet you two" she beamed "Hmm, Perhaps later this evening we could both pop over and I could make us all something” She suggested

“Oh I couldn’t ask you to do that, I will make the dinner, but of course I would be great to see you later” I smile “I will see you later then Miss Y/L/N,” I tell her taking her hand and kissing it

“y/n I Insist” she grinned

“Very well y/n” I reply “Isaac, Isaac Newton,” I clarify

“Pleasure” she smiled taking her other hand from behind her back and she was holding a small pressed daisy “for you, Welcome to Mubury” she smiled before she left.

I heard her go down the stairs and leave shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone I put the little flower on the inside of my pocket watch and I began unpacking my things putting all my clothes away and all my tools and such in the office sorting everything out where it needed to be making the hall clear of things before checking my watch, “bugger, it’s already getting later” I sigh putting my watch away and getting a broom from the little closet in the kitchen and beginning to sweep the years of dust and cobwebs that had built up as well as taking a cloth to the windows letting me now see out of them all and letting the dim fading light into the house and pulling the curtains in the office and a few others rooms I wasn’t going to need tonight. As I cleaned the window in my room I saw the funeral was just finishing on the hill many people kept glancing over to my house but I did my best to try and ignore them before going down and lighting the fire as it had begun to get cold. As the sun began to set so I took a light from the fire and going lighting the candles around the house, before heading to the kitchen the cupboards and pantry fully stocked with food I wasn’t too good at making food but It didn’t come out too badly even if it wasn’t very much just some simple soup and a little bread that I had already laid on the table when I set it as well as a nice bottle of wine I found Under the sink just then I heard the door so I ran to the door checking my reflection in the mirror by the door. My dirty blonde hair still as sorted as it was this morning I had a bit of mud on my face which I quickly licked my finger and got rid of staring back at my own brown eyes before smiling and opening the door and there stood y/n in a Light blue dress similar to the one she had on earlier today and a small box in her hands and a little coat of dark red velvet

“good evening” she greeted

“Evening, Oh come in,” I told her so she smiled and walked in “May I take your coat?” I offer her

“Oh yes, Hang on” she laughed “Akiko, come on,” she told and a little black cat with wide blue eyes crawled up onto her shoulder so I took off her coat and hung it on the rack beside the door. It was fascinating to see her cat just sit on her shoulder comfortably “get off Akiko” she laughed and the cat jumped off her shoulder and sat on the floor perfectly

“How in the world did you train her to do that? My old cat couldn’t even grasp move” I urge

“Lots of time” she shrugged “I bought a few things” she smiled as we walked down to the dining room and she put the box down on the table “I brought all Akiko’s food and such, I got you a few strawberries I thought they might be nice to have in the pantry” she smiled handing me a small china container full of fresh strawberry’s

“Oh I love strawberries Thank you” I smile taking them and putting them in the pantry when I returned the box was in the hall and Akiko was already fed and a Freshly baked cake was sat on a glass dish in the centre of the table

“I baked it today, I thought it would make a nice dessert” she smiled

“It looks amazing, thank you so much, you really didn’t have to do all this you know,” I informed her

“I know, I just know the rest of the village won’t take to you as much as I have, so I wanted to make you feel welcome” she laughed

“Thank you y/n” I grin

“You’re welcome Isaac” she smiled

“Oh do sit” I smiled to her taking her hand, lightly moving out the chair for her at the end of the table so she stood and as I tucked it in she sat “Dinner won’t be another Moment” I told her going back to the kitchen and preparing the dinner and bringing it out to her

“Smells delicious,” she said as I put it down on the table for her

“Thank you, I’m not the best cook in the world but, it will do,” I explained to her “wine?” I ask her

“Yes please” she answered so I got the Wine from the table and opened it up pouring her a glass then one for myself before taking my seat in the chair at the other end of the table

“Uhh… I would say, Too New friends” I tell her

“Too new friends” she smiled as we toast and little Akiko meowed and both sip our wine “this is very good” she smiled

“Yeah, lucky find” I shrug

“How so?” she asked picking up her spoon

“I found it under the sink” I laugh starting to eat myself

“Wow, Lucky” she laughed as we sat and ate for a while not talking to each other very much until we had both finished and I took the bowls back to the kitchen when I returned she was stood “sit, I can take care of this” she reassured so I sat on my seat again as she cut the cake she brought cutting two precise slices so we both got a piece with a whole strawberry on the top and set them each on a plate giving one to me and taking the other to her seat as well as taking off a few crumbs she gave to Akiko. I took my fork getting a large piece of it with the two sections of cake as well as the jam and cream taking a bite and the marvellous taste exploding in my mouth it was one of the best things I had ever tasted “this is beautiful” I tell her

“Thank you, I am fairly good at cakes” she smiled

“I never did ask y/n, what exactly do you do in Village?” I ask her having another bite of cake

“Oh I run the Little Book Shop In the town centre” she smiled eating some cake herself

“Oh, I’m sure I will pop in many times over the coming months,” I laugh having another bite of cake

“How long are you planning to stay?” She asked

“Indefinitely I hope, that depends how good I am at my job” I laugh

“I’m sure you will be exceptional” she smiled finishing her cake

“Thank you” I smile finishing my cake

“So why did you move up here?” she asked

“Oh…. I would rather-“I begin

“It’s alright, Just promise you will tell me someday” she smiled

“I promise,” I tell her with a small smile

“Now, I’ll clean up, you can go relax by the fire” she smiled getting up and begins to pack things away

“Don’t be absurd you’re my guest, you’ve already done more than enough for me y/n,” I told her taking the plates and such from her hands

“Alright” she sighed picking up the cake and I took the plates to sit in the sink with the bowls I will clean them later I’m sure, and she took the cake sitting it in the pantry and we both went to the living room sitting in the large chairs by the fire for what felt like forever “I should be going, I Need to be up in the morning for the shop” she states getting up

“Oh, of course, I don’t mean to keep you” I laughed

“It’s alright, I should leave you to get used to your new home and all” she smiled going to the hall picking up all Akiko’s things and putting them back in her little box “I had a wonderful time tonight” she smiled

“I did as well we must do this again,” I smile

“I’m sure we will” she smiled as Akiko jumped up on her shoulder again

“And It was a pleasure to meet you, Akiko, I hope to see you much more as well,” I tell the cat and it meowed at me before climbing down and under the petticoats of y/n’s dress

“She must think It’s cold out” she laughed making me chuckle too as I get her coat and put it softly over her shoulders “thank you” she smiled

“It’s alright” I smile back as I open the door for her and she stepped out into the dark

“I will see you tomorrow most likely” she giggled

“Yeah, see you then,” I tell her happily

“Well goodnight Isaac” she smiled

“Goodnight y/n” I smile back and she began to walk off into the darkness and with seconds she vanished into the dark.

So I shut and locked the door pulling the curtain for the door and the little window then going to the kitchen pulling the curtains and shutting the pantry and blowing out the candles then blowing out the ones in the dining room then going through shutting everything up putting the guard over the fire so if it spits it won’t cause a fire. Then shutting the door blowing out the candles in the hall and climbing the stairs each creak as I step on them, dust coming off the banister as I walked up my fingers ran through the little woodworm holes in the woodwork as I went up, before going to the wash room to get ready for bed blowing out candles as I went and soon the house was in darkness except for the one candle beside my bed and the moonlight coming through the curtains on my window as I read my book in bed I had read it a thousand times and I still love it until I yawn so I put the bookmark on the page and set my book down on the side table and blowing out the last candle and shutting my eyes drifting off into a comfortable sleep.

#TMR #tmr au #tmr au smut #tmr imagines #tmr imagine #tmr imagine au #tmr smut #tmr smut imagines #tmr sex #tmr smut imagine #tmr smutty #tmr newt #tmr newt smut #tmr newt imagines #tmr newt fanfic #tmr newt au #the maze runner #the maze runner newt #the maze runner fandom

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ayellowbirds · 7 years ago

Video

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Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 21: “Jeepers, It’s The Creeper"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 2 Episode 4. Original Airdate: 10/3/1970)

AKA, "Scooby Gets Chicks, No I Mean Literally He Gets Baby Chickens The Screencap Below Is Misleading"

The villain of this episode is pretty memorable, but it’s not because of a distinctive shrieking laugh or an impressive design, nor even a particularly clever scheme. No, everyone remembers the Creeper because the show never stops telling you his name.

The episode begins with a nighttime view of a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. A car comes to a stop as its driver and the audience catch sight of a tree that has fallen across the road, and as the driver gets out to try to move it, some creeper watches him from the bushes.

Sorry, the��Creeper watches from the bushes. The definite article is important, you know.

Silently except for the musical sting, the Creeper moves from the bushes, menacingly approaching... and the view cuts to the gang driving along on their way to a school dance, reminding us all that they are teenagers and it’s really zoinksed-up that Dean Winchester kept trying to put the moves on Daphne, he’s nearly forty, what the fuck.

Sorry, school dance and hayride. Man, i know Scooby-Doo was meant to be wholesome entertainment to stave off the moral panic machine of activist groups concerned that Jonny Quest was too violent, but is this just them trying to be wholesome and pure, or were things really so boring in the early Seventies that a hayride was exciting for teens?

Shaggy’s priorities are more understandable. He’s jazzed about the buffet table, with chocolate-covered corn on the cob. Boy, that sounds like a mess.

Even Scooby gets into it, putting on a bow tie he must have stolen from Fred Flintstone (though it does complement his spots nicely), combing his fur, and splashing on some violently pink “cologne”. Exactly why Scooby is dressing up is kind of confusing. Does he expect there to be other dogs present? Is he just fancying up for his own sake, to feel good about himself at a public event?

Whatever the case, the gang’s plans are brought to a literal halt as they hit the brakes, stopped by the sight of the car and tree from the scene before.

The gang identify the victim as a bank guard for no apparent reason, and find that the car has only been wrecked inside, in what Velma figures out is evidence of a search. The guard comes to only long enough to pass Fred a blank sheet of paper, and mumble, “the flame will tell... the Creeper....”

“The Creeper?” Daphne asks.

“Re Reeper?” Scooby repeats.

“Like wow, this is creepy! Who’s the Creeper?” Shaggy wonders, and if you haven’t figured out the name of the episode’s monster, boy, you’re going to have plenty of chances to come.

Scooby finds another paper, this one with the address of the bank president, who fortuitously lives nearby. The gang take the unconscious guard to his boss to see if he can help out.

Mr. Carswell, the bank president, demonstrates a discouraging lack of familiarity with medical emergencies and insists that the guard will be okay with a bit of rest. Fred relates the bad news that the sheriff is out of town for several hours, proving that this is an utter fantasy since a phone call from a rich white man’s home does not summon an immediate police presence to his defense.

Carswell explains to the gang that the Creeper has been robbing the bank in the dead of night, impossibly leaving the building behind with the doors and windows still locked from the inside. “He’s a phantom,” Carswell says, “a phantom that can walk right through walls.”

Uncharacteristically, Fred brushes this mystery off.

I guess we know that badly dancing to generic music is a higher priority for Fred than mysteries. The scene transitions to a lot of repeated animation of the gang and some extras twitching like they need to use the bathroom, with the liveliest dancing happening when Scooby cuts in on Velma and Shaggy to lead Shaggy to the buffet table.

Well, that explains one mystery: the chocolate covered corn on the cob was just Shaggy’s plan to abuse the buffet layout and combine things that were not meant to be combined.

As the boys chow down, the Creeper shows up outside the barn, lets out a groaning growl, and flips the power switch to the building. As dozens of extras who were not seen previously start to panic, Fred reassures everyone and suggests they all continue the party at the malt shop. It’s a moment that suggests Fred may have some charm outside of the gang, a notion that is never repeated in later series when it comes to putting Mystery Inc among ohter teens.

Scooby and Shaggy “clean up” by eating all of the remaining (probably untouched by anyone else) food, and taking what’s left out behind the barn to dump it by an “ugly scarecrow”... which turns out to be the Creeper, waiting the dark.

The Creeper gives chase, moaning, “PAPER!” over and over, a bit that may give one flashbacks to a coin-craving mummy. As the gang hide in a hay pile, the episode’s song starts up: Daydreamin’, a song built on the outdated and disproven notion that ostriches their heads in holes in the ground. Amidst this, the gang play keep-away with the blank sheet of paper the gang took off the guard, leading to at least one golden reaction from the Creeper.

That’s a face that says, “i watched you fold that into a paper airplane but i never thought you were going to actually throw it”.

The gang get split up by the chase, and Shaggy and Scooby wind up hiding in a chicken coop. Somehow, this disguise fools the Creeper:

In fact, it works so well that Scooby hatches an egg, causing a chick to imprint on him and follow Scooby and Shaggy around for the rest of the episode, acting as a kind of proto-Scrappy—especially once Scooby’s attempt to correct the misunderstanding winds up teaching the chick to bark.

Meanwhile, having survived a horse-drawn cart crashing off a cliff and upending on top of them, Fred, Velma, and Daphne discover a car hidden among the bushes. Inside is no clue to is owner, but there are scraps of photographic negatives left torn up all over the driver’s side floor.

Listen, just because she’s the smart one, it doesn’t mean speaking is her strong suit.

When Shaggy and Scooby try hiding among some shrubs as the Creeper stalks them, their little chick bursts out to start barking at the green ghoul. Scooby demonstrates a stellar grasp of the threats in the situation, and bursts out to rock the little bird to sleep, cradling it in his arms and humming Rock-a-bye Baby.

Which, naturally, does zoinks-all to deal with the Creeper, so Scooby kicks him in the shin and bolts.

In a sequence that adds nothing to the plot and makes no sense in context except to add some question of who the Creeper is, the gang follow a set of very large footprints out into the middle of nowhere, arriving at a gorge with a rope-and-plank bridge set across it. The planks are drawn back, curled up in a sort of drawbridge situation that probably wouldn’t work in real life.

The gang conclude that the Creeper must’ve gone across, and bribe Scooby into risking his life to cross by climbing over on the ropes, tossing him a Scooby Snack... which the chick catches and eats from its perch on Scooby’s nose. “A deal’s a deal,” Velma says, ignoring that the humans have not actually held up to their side of the deal in any reasonable fashion.

Miraculously, Scooby makes it across, and unrolls the bridge so the others can simply walk, leading Shaggy to reference a meme that was outdated a decade before this episode aired, by asking “is this trip necessary?”

The gang make it inside, and discover the resident of the cave: the Hermit of the Hills, with voice acting credited to Frank Welker at what must be his highest pitch.

There’s so much extraneous nonsense going on in this episode, it really feels like they sat down, wrote a plot, and then realized they only had ten minutes worth of story.

The Hermit welcomes the gang and invites them to dinner, and while the others have some doubts, Velma is certain he’s really the Creeper in a “hermit disguise”. While Velma accuses an innocent man, the Hermit offers Shaggy and Scooby a taste of the “specialty of the cave”, a soup so unpleasant that even Shaggy doesn’t want another taste, and that’s before the Hermit reveals that it’s squirrel stew with pickled bat wings and crabgrass root.

The gang flee in fear from a lonely old man who just wants some company for the first time in ages, and head for the Mystery Machine to get the sheriff on the flimsy conviction that the Hermit must be the Creeper.

Naturally, they find the Creeper waiting for them. They run back to the barn, but Velma is cornered by the villain.

“You wouldn’t hit somebody with glasses on, would you?” she dares, and the Creeper responds by snatching the frames right off her face.

So Velma kicks him in the shin.

Seriously, the Creeper takes a lot of shots to the shins.

A barn-centric chase scene ensues, including a simplistic variation on the Freleng Door Gag, in which the Creeper chases the gang in and out of the barn doors while the scene stays static, alternating antics until Fred runs out and falls flat on his face, accidentally tripping up the Creeper. However, it’s not until the gang and the Creeper—minus Scooby and the chick—fall into a pile of hay atop a baler that things are resolved.

Following the suggestion of the barking chick, Scooby activates the baler, eviscerating the Creeper as it chops and compresses him like so much hay.

I’m kidding, of course, because this is a cartoon animated by people who have no idea how the most elementary farm machines work. The Creeper is captured along with the rest of the humans, and Scooby gets his karmic revenge for being forced over the bridge—as well as the opportunity to unmask the villain, revealing the Creeper as Mr. Carswell.

The scene cuts to Carswell in cuffs, and the Sheriff explains that he’d arrived at the bank president’s house to find the guard tied up in Carswell’s basement. The gang explain his “slick scheme”: waiting until everyone else left the bank for the day, Carswell filled his briefcase with cash, locked the safe and doors, and left. He’d later show up as the Creeper, making it appear that the “phantom” thief was fleeing the bank after walking through the walls, deliberately attracting witnesses.

Carswell evidently never considered that anyone would investigate further.

How exactly this camera was concealed, or what was “infrared” about it is never made clear. In the next shot, it’s clearly visible as Carswell shovels cash into his briefcase. The “paper” is revealed as a heat-sensitive photo of Carswell robbing the safe, providing the solid evidence he’d hoped to eliminate by chasing them... as if everything else didn’t incriminate him.

What does Carswell have to say about all that?

That’s right, it’s our second “meddling kids,” right after the first one!

The episode ends with Scooby returning the chick to its mother, and a “here we go again” type gag with more chicks hatching to imprint on him.

While memorable, it’s ultimately a weak episode. No matter how many times i've watched it over the years, i always seem to forget about the whole bit with the Hermit of the Hills, misremembering it has part of some other episode or another. In fact, there’s more that i always mistook about this episode in my memories of it:

I could have sworn that the Creeper was just saying his name over and over again. It never sounded like “paper” to me when i was a kid, but then, my crummy word recognition skills are the reason i have subtitles on in the first place.

Thing is, i’m not the only one who made this mistake. The memorability of the Creeper eventually led to him reappearing in Scooby-Doo and the Cyber Chase, AKA “The Writers Don’t Understand The First Thing About Computers Or Virtual Reality”, as well as a State Farm commercial, and in both of them, he could only growl his own name.

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So, is it the Mandela Effect impacting later media? Or just a case of “paper” being a less obvious utterance for the Creeper than “Creeper”, especially when so many of us are accustomed to monsters saying their own names over and over?

The world may never know.

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

#scooby doo #KRAOSD #video

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bspoetryandart · 8 years ago

Text

Madame Psychosis

Chapter 1: Bound, Homeward

“I had the strangest dream,” Cade said; though I should say ‘I’ being both narrator and subject of this escapade. But ‘I’ is not objective and neither am I, nor was I when I awoke to the gentle rocking of the room as it passed by clouds outside, the light fixture on the ceiling swaying and tinkling in crystal gaudiness above the sheets around me. Or he. Cade awoke on the bed before he met the old lady he made the comment to and sat up on the sheets. He wouldn’t know for a little while longer about the old lady, seeing as she is in another room that sways like this one. But now you know of her while he does not, so you are no longer objective either. Please save your judgement of him until you know more of his story. He pushed up under the sheets and they slid from his torso, his naked skin, nearly naked body save for the leather strap around his arm. His clothes puddled around a scuffed guitar case on the floor beside the bed. He stretched his sinews toward the ceiling, arching his back, mouth yawning open as his fingers ran through short wavy locks the color of a fine temple floor, that cigar color with the thousand year shine. He scratched his hair and then his cheeks, scruffed as they were with that same brown that gently lined his arms and dusted his chest and crept in well groomed fashion up toward his navel. The fan overhead creaked louder as the room swayed wider but he didn’t try to look out the slat window over the bed at the moving clouds. He scanned the walls and their water stains like ivy growing up past the mouse caverns of the baseboards. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up naked in a place he didn’t recognize. He dropped his legs over the edge of the bed, shucking his sheets so his moist oyster flesh felt cool in the breeze from the window. He let the belt on his arm loose and flexed his bicep, clenched his hand, allowed reality to once again flood his veins. In the clarity of waking he remembered dreams or realities or intertwined snippets of either and both that he would rather have forgot. Situations and people too odd to be real. Cade stood and stretched again, rosy color coming back to his skin as strength returned to his limbs and youth flowed throbbing through his body. He took the loose sheet from the bed and wiped the sweat from his body stained as it already was where a little of his sea-saltiness wouldn’t harm it any. The guitar case though scuffed and rusted at the hinges opened without so much as a squeak and he riffled through his cleaner clothing to pick out what today he would wear. In his idiosyncratic way he picked out a shirt and socks and drawers all of the same color. Today would be blue. Aqua blue. It would match well with the tattoos he didn’t yet have. He dressed the same as you or I, though you do not dress as he so you don’t dress as me although we both go one leg at a time. But the way he dressed was not like you, not as simplistic as that. The clothing of his body was like a dance, the tensing and flexing of his muscles in rapid succession such a sensual thing as the cloth rose up his skin to hide things in a way that made many want them to again immediately be revealed. He stepped into his jeans and tugged on his shirt; pulled on his socks and slipped on his boots. Put away yesterday’s sheddings in the case and clasped the latch. And then opened the door to the rest of the house.

The hallway swayed as well, the portraits banging like hungry dinner guests upon the walls. It was a long hall, identical doors lining the sides down it toward the dark moldering bathroom as well as up toward the light. He set the guitar case on the floor and closed the door, draping darkness through this part of the house. His eyes adjusted to the gloom though his taste did not adjust to the faux wood paneling or balding floor shag; make no mistake, this house was hideous. But one borrowing accommodations cannot complain: beauty is in the eye of the bed-holder. The hallway opened onto the living room, wide as the rooms on both sides of the hall and long up to the kitchen, where the old lady stood percolating coffee. Windows on both sides of the room showed the landscape trotting away. The old lady smiled at him, waved him over with a cup in her hand. He set the guitar case by the front door and walked toward her, the cadence of his heels the singsong one-two beat of a heart on the hard floors. She sipped and closed her eyes with delight as he took his place beside her. “You can always tell quality boots by the sound they make.” He poured his cup, let the steam wet his face more than the balmy heat already had. “Did you sleep well?” He nodded. Shook his head. Nodded. “I had the strangest dream,” he said. “This is no place to talk of dreams.” Cade looked at her. What were wizened wrinkles from the distance were just distortions of the light. “Come, let’s go sit on the porch. Dreams need fresh air, and so do we.” She led him to the door and he picked up his case, stepped outside behind her. The swing on the porch swayed lightly to and fro and hither and back. Beyond it the line of double wide homes moved on down the highway each pulled by its team of horses. Her horses were magnificent and grey like her hair. She led him to the swing and calmed it by sitting, patting the wooden slats beside her. He sat and set the case beside the swing, looked out on the land as it went by, all the crumbling granaries and barns dotting the landscape in muddied green fields, left to lie, the detritus of tornadoes that spun along the ground twirling like a spoiled child’s top. The roadside was littered with badly kept yards and their poor houses surrounded by dirty chain link fences. Decaying once pastel lawn furniture waited beside rusting mowers and Styrofoam beer cocoons. Barbecues and kettle grills and smokers circled in an oil-stained driveway like war drums. “What did you dream of?” She sipped her coffee. He looked but she made no eye contact, just watched the houses go by. “It was strange. I kept waking up over and over again in the same bed to put on the same clothes and leave for the same place where the same people said the same things in the same room as if the sameness of it all was the reason they existed.” “Some folks call that normal.” Cade gave her a look. In his eyes reflected the horses pulling the houses up the road. “I said some folks.” “It’s surreal. Like painting a new canvas yellow everyday and calling it art. At least spit on the canvas, sweat on it, bleed on it- change that color. Do something to avoid that monochrome monotony.” She holds her coffee cup up in a toast. They clink and the brown liquid swirls around in their cups in opposite directions. Her eyes blink open, her feet touch the floor and stop the swing. “Oh silly me.” She stands. “I forgot something.” He watches her enter the house, turns back to the never changing view. Cars grow cinderblock roots into concrete driveways cracked with age. Grass invades garbage bins turned on the roadside, drifts of leaves slowly damply becoming soil beside them and their cat-tail guardians. The door bangs open and back as she comes back out. A bottle swings beside her, dark and green although it isn’t clear until she holds it up to the light if it is the glass itself or its contents that are emerald. “I fancy some absinthe with my jo. How about you?” He sips, then looks slyly toward her with a half lip smile. Sips a little more to make room. “My thoughts exactly.” She raises the cup to her lips when the house hits a pothole, splashing coffee all over. His jaw drops but then he joins the rumble of her chuckle as she hands him the bottle to wipe her face. She sits again beside Cade, sets her cup on the swing and takes the bottle from him. “The best part of waking up,” she states, splashing the anise liquid, the licorice liquor that reminds him at once of both Italian sausage and Thai noodles, into her mug, “is corruption in your cup.” He holds out his mug and she doses it generously. “How long til-” Her hand works its old lady magic, shushes him with a sweep. “We’ll hit Benoit soon enough. It’s a ways down once we turn off the interstate. No need to hurry.” Her eye twinkles. “Or you got the same thing waiting for you to do it?” He sips, shakes his head. “Just some writing. That’s why I’m there.” “What kind of writing you do?” He gives her a look like she might be prying, she volleys back a glance at the passing ruins. “I deal in nightmares.” “They follow you if you let them.” “Not the good kind. I write saccharine stories for Reader’s Indigestion. Turns your stomach to read ‘em.” “Ain’t nothing sweet in Benoit. Or Bolivar in general.” He downs the contents of his mug, holds it out for more. “There’s the Burrus House and its columns and comeback and history. People like comebacks and history.” “Ain’t nothing sweet in Benoit.” He shrugs. “And I like paying the bills.” Together they watch what’s left of the suburbs go by. Wispy clouds roll past mountainous thunderheads like tumbleweeds over the desert-like bayou-land with its water instead of sand. Even though it hasn’t rained the roads are wet. “I’m not staying there, no nothing fancy like that. I’m down the road from it by the tall overpass bridge.” “Ain’t no overpass in Benoit either.” “You’re right there ain’t but there is that bridge that leads me home at night, like a graffiti laden Arc de Triomphe beside that little stream.” “Brown’s Bayou. But that ain’t there either anymore.” Cade smiles. “You sure you’re a wise woman?” She looks at him, scandalized. “I never said I was wise, just a woman. But tell you what, I never met a wise man neither. There’s just women, and there’s men. Anyone claims to you to be wise is obviously lying.” They sip and watch people drive past them up the frontage road on an air mattress with an out-board motor. Mud streaks their hands and faces. Catfish flap about in milk crates. “Guess that shit creek could be back.” She pours them both more. The air smells green like mold and dead trees. “Thing about wisdom is it’s just a dream. If we are just the dreams of ourselves and wisdom is the dream of those dreams how can anyone know it? Can you find it, hold it, wrap yourself in it? “Like the butterfly that dreamed it was a man. When it woke up it remembered what it was like to be a man, how it felt and tasted and touched and smelled. It thought it could still become a man so it built a cocoon and folded up its wings and crawled back inside.” She smacks his knees to lift his feet from the porch, starts to swing. And swings some more. He scratches his nose. “Then what happened?” “Well of course it died.”

#story #poets on tumblr #dream #chapter 1 #workinprogress #more to come #writers on tumblr #Madame Psychosis

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