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blakes-seven-or-so-blog · 7 years ago

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S1 E13: Orac

Gan, Jenna, and Avon are feeling ill. Blake pronounces Orac with a rolled ‘r’ and thinks there's something odd about the whole Orac situation. He makes Avon watch last week's episode in slow motion, something Avon completely forgets about by season four. They discover that the VW didn't break down because of the usual reasons but because of sabotage.

Cally uses a geiger counter on Avon and Vila and it clicks like a New Year's Eve noisemaker. Wait, they didn't decontaminate after returning from Cephlon?! How can they be surprised at having radiation sickness after spending all day on the Highly Radioactive Planet? They probably tracked isotopes all over the Liberator, too. Its market value just plummeted.

There are no decontamination drugs on their super-advanced spaceship, and their only hope is that Ensor will have some. Avon acknowledges that he and Vila share a few talents, among them ‘mortality’, which Vila finds unpalatable.

I am a little dubious about the idea that a drug could easily reverse the kind of severe cellular damage a lethal dose of radiation would cause, but: it’s the 28th century, and also it’s plot grease.

Iscandar! They can get a Cosmo Reverser there and cure the radiation damage... Oh, it's only Aristo. They’re screwed.

A kindly old man nearly has a heart attack in his solarium and checks the charge level on his chestronics. Hairy chests are so 25th century. He has a conversation with someone about the intruders that have landed nearby. His unseen companion sounds just like him and also like drunken bees and is talking out of a fern. The kindly old man hates unexpected visitors, and if you don't call first, consider yourself lizard food. I like this guy.

Travis and Servalan arrive and use the map Ensor, Sr. provided (why? why would he give them a secret map when he invited them?) to break in through the creepy lizard-man infested undersea tunnels.

Ensor needs the batteries his son was bringing because he has a primitive artificial heart that needs batteries every forty years. Here's my question: why did he wait until the very last minute to get replacement batteries? Did he forget? Did it take that long to find the right size? It's a mystery.

Orac gives Zen brain freeze and then starts talking through him. It accepts Blake's excuse for showing up unannounced and turns Zen back on. Zen finally has a paradoxical koan to ponder.

They're down to five teleport bracelets. Looks like it's time to draw straws and throw two people off.

Servalan gets groped by a lizard-man and Travis rescues her. She uncharacteristically sobs in horror like a damsel in distress. This whole scene annoys me. At least he doesn't attempt to comfort her; she would definitely stab him in his last eye. He dares Servalan to crawl and taunts her with the notion of staring at his leather-clad ass, but she haughtily reminds him whose ass is Number One here.

Orac arrives in his security sphere guise and starts giving snippy orders and warning shots to Blake and Cally. If they only knew that it would soon be the eighth 'or so'. Gan tries and fails to cheer everyone up by making sasquatch sounds from behind furniture. Avon, for the third time, gives Vila a backhanded compliment. Everyone is short-tempered in the face of imminent death.

Orac insists Blake and Cally enter a revolving darkroom door that rises from the ground. Blake jokes that they should catch the versatile flying jerk and give it to Avon as a pet, which is exactly what happens. They are taken deep down to an underground solarium. Ensor immediately charms them with his warm hospitality. He calms down after they tell him his son is dead and gives them the radiation drugs they need. Blake once again thinks Zen-assisted surgery will be a piece of cake.

Ensor wheels Orac out from behind the fern and it turns out to be a fish tank full of junk. Blake scoffs but Ensor says Orac is not a computer but a genius brain that can access every computer everywhere. Orac is Skynet but with Ensor’s personality; basically it’s a god-tier honey badger.

Travis crashes the party and once again has Blake in his grasp and loses him. I’m nicknaming Travis ‘Butterfingers’. Blake thinks pulling the ancient tunnel ceiling down onto his own face is a good idea despite Cally’s sensible suggestion to stick together. A lizard-man gropes Cally and Blake beats it to death with a rock. Ensor sits down for a rest and dies. I’m really sad about this, no sarcasm. At least his winning personality will live on through Orac.

Right at the greatest moment of Travis’s life, when Servalan says ‘go ahead and kill Blake’, Avon shoots Travis’s blaster hand off. He jokes that he missed and was aiming for Travis’s head. Avon is more than ready to kill Butterfingers and Servalan but Blake stops him, intending to just spread nasty rumors about them instead. Servalan blames Travis for everything again. Travis is so embarrassed he changes faces, eye color, and accent for the next season.

Travis is the unluckiest person in the universe. He probably locks himself in his quarters and cries afterward. His Blakeicidal dreams and his robot blaster hand have been destroyed in the most humiliating way possible, and the guy who installed his robo-hand is dead thanks to Servalan. The only thing he got out of this was a memory of his boss’s ass maybe. Poor Butterfingers.

Back on the Liberator, everyone is feeling better and they turn on the drunken bees. In Ensor’s voice, Orac immediately starts hurling insults. Avon is horrified. Orac goes on to inform them of his abilities. It takes exactly one minute before they tell him to shut up. Orac predicts that the Liberator will explode, and when he is evasive about the details, Avon gets even.

Orac’s shutting off sound is ‘exasperated drunken bees’.

Damage report:

- Ensor, Sr.

- Ensor’s fish and plants which were left to die

- a couple of lizard-people

- a couple of explorers whose skeletons decorate the tunnels

- Travis’s robo-hand, dignity, and what was left of his career

We never see Orac's flying sphere again, which is a shame. Ensor left it on Aristo and no one ever makes a replacement. He seems perfectly satisfied with being a brain in a box and unlike Krang never has himself installed in a body.

I like this episode because it introduces one of my favorite characters. Zen is condescending and passive-aggressive, but Orac is a complete asshole, yet invaluable to the Liberator crew. I also watched this episode repeatedly as a teen while half-asleep and dreaming so it was etched into my eternal memory extra-weird.

Next: Redemption

#blake's 7 #season 1 #Orac #review #RIP Ensor #RIP Ensor's fish and plants #maybe the phibians take care of them #RIP Travis I

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jamieroxx · 5 years ago

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RIP Today, Nov 19, 1949 – James Ensor, Belgian painter (b. 1860) walked on. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Ensor) *One of the Greats!

#James Ensor

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eradne · 7 years ago

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Rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag some people

tagged by @roseirani 💖💖

tagging: @ensor @rnaahi @indiebells @golden-offerings @julietcapulct @bisexualpeggycarter

AIR

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn /the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips /summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs/ i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colours not words

EARTH

i wear glasses/contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i have an excellent sense of time/ my humour is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER

i cannot go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i can always smell flowers/ i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have tried to recover from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

#tagged

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hanzooshimada · 7 years ago

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tagged by both @sunlitdaisys and @shitagumo thank you so much!! love you guys.

RULES: Bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, and tag nine people!

tagging: @quantumcola @ensor @the-fortune-arcana @officialtalizorah

AIR: I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE: I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls • I play an organized sport • I love dogs • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers • I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER: I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm • I want to travel the world • I sleep past midnight most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors not words (both)

EARTH: I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued advisor to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER: I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

#about me

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photoshop-remade-blog · 7 years ago

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thank you @crownish !! rip mobile users

1st rule: tag 9 or just 8 people you want to get to know better.

@thepeachlesbian @tcekook @dreamts @ ahhhh i dont know @milanpique @brotayuri @cleganez @blueberrys @ensor [you know the deal, you dont gotta do this if you dont wanna blahlblaha]

2nd rule: bold the statements that are true.

appearance: · i am 5'7" or taller · i wear glasses · i have at least one tattoo · i have at least one piercing · i have blonde hair [sorta? im just gonna bold it jic] · i have brown eyes · i have short hair · my abs are at least somewhat defined · i have or have had braces

personality: · i love meeting new people · people tell me that i’m funny · helping others with their problems is a big priority for me · i enjoy physical challenges · i enjoy mental challenges · i’m playfully rude with people i know well · i started saying something ironically and now i can’t stop saying it · there is something i would change about my personality [everything]

ability: · i can sing well · i can play an instrument · i can do over 30 pushups without stopping [i can at most do like 12] · i’m a fast runner [well i was at one point, now im old and broken] · i can draw well · i have a good memory · i’m good at doing math in my head · i can hold my breath underwater for over a minute · i have beaten at least 2 people in armwrestling · i know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch · i know how to throw a proper punch

hobbies: · i enjoy playing sports · i’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else · i’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else · i have learned a new song in the past week · i work out at least once a week · i’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months · i have drawn something in the past month · i enjoy writing · fandoms are my #1 passion · i do or have done martial arts. [wow this whole paragraph was just sad]

experiences: · i have had my first kiss · i have had alcohol · i have scored the winning goal in a sports game · i have watched an entire season of a tv show in one sitting · i have been at an overnight event · i have been in a taxi · i have been in the hospital or er in the past year [as of jan 2018 ive been to the hospital twice & i’m going two more trips soon, but in all of 2017, probably on average twice/thirce a month :/ ] · i have beaten a game in one day [i can beat mass effect 2 in 13 hours, fun fact] · i have visited another country · i have been to one of my favourite band’s concerts

my life: · i have at least one person i consider a “best friend” · i live close to my school [2 american miles or 3.3 km, i guess it depends on what you call close]· my parents are still together · i have at least one sibling · i live in the united states · there is snow right now where i live · i have hung out with a friend in the past month · i have an iphone · i have at least 15 cds· i share my room with someone

relationships: · i’m in a relationship · i have a crush on a celebrity [of course what the hell]· i have a crush on someone i know · i have been in at least 3 relationships · i have never been in a relationship · i have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them · i get crushes easily · i had a crush on someone for over a year · i have been in a relationship for at least a year · i have had feelings for a friend [rip me this is sad]

random: · i have breakdanced · i know a person named jamie · i have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce · i have dyed my hair · i’m listening to one song on repeat right now · i have punched someone in the past week · i know someone who has gone to jail · i have broken a bone · i have eaten a waffle today · i know what i want to do with my life · i speak at least 2 languages · i have made a new friend in the past year

#x #i dont wanna talk about the 'hobbies' ok #i dont do things!!#play 13hour games i guess is the only thing #and also go 2 the hospital #ok goodnight babes

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hellomissmabel · 7 years ago

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The Red Queen (1/3)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Nat x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: Car crash. Someone being called a bitch.

Word count: 1.754

Summary: A small yet skilled art thief is drawn to the French Riviera to settle a score, only to be met with the surprise of a lifetime.

The prompt: The reader can erase memories, or so she thinks. In reality, she merely misplaces them. But those misplaced memories have to go somewhere, the only question is, where?

A/N: This is a mini series I’ve written while on the road. It’s not an AU (surprise surprise!) and I feel like I’m a bit rusty writing something else. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it @jurassicbarnes <3

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go down. It was supposed to be quick, an easy in and out. These past five weeks, you had meticulously studied the entire estate, including the stables, mansion and its occupants. You didn’t leave any room for mistakes or miscalculations, simply because you didn’t make any. Something else must’ve triggered the alarm, or rather, someone else.

“I am unarmed,” you state plainly, carefully turning towards to the three guards now in front of you. They are all carrying a handgun, two other knives stashed away in their monochrome uniform. Number one is already distracted, speaking into his walkie-talkie, muttering something about a young woman getting caught in the drawing room. The second guard has his eyes all set on you. He is a little overweight and therefore makes an easier target, unlike the third man who appears to be as agile as a figure skater and as strong as a body builder.

All in all, you have a 50% chance this goes sideways.

“Don’t move!,” the sturdy guard shouts, his finger ready to pull the trigger.

“It’s alright, Fred.” The third guard eyes you, his hand on the other man’s gun as he lowers it very slowly, still untrusting towards you. “Craig,” he says to the man on the walkie-talkie, “Tell Jean it’s nothing. She’s a guest, I checked her invitation upon arrival. She just got lost on her way to the bathroom, right?”

He winks shortly when his gaze lands on you again. You quickly nod, swallowing away the lump in your throat. You know for a fact he’s lying. He didn’t see you come in and he didn’t check your invitation, even though you did take the main entrance and you did have a skilfully forged invitation. But in the current situation, you don’t have the luxury to call his bluff. So you just go with it, trying not to blow your cover.

With a fake accent, you explain in perfect French that you asked one of the waitresses for directions but that you must’ve taken a wrong turn. “I simply wanted to reapply my lipstick.” You point towards your lips, painted in a deep red. “My husband... He’ll be worried, wondering why it’s taking me this long.”

You can see the shoulders of the first guard relax but the second man, Fred, still remains a stiff posture. In an attempt to make yourself sound more genuine, you add a touch of hysteria to your already high-pitched tone, nervously fidgeting with your Balenciaga.

“I didn’t know this room was under surveillance,” you say in broken English, laced with a thick, fake French accent. “Please,” you continue to plead, “I did nothing wrong.”

Fred and Craig both exchange looks with the third man who never, not even once, averted his eyes. You catch a glimpse of a smirk when he waves the men away, stating he will escort you back to the festivities. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, madame. But surely you must understand that with such an extensive art collection, the host, mister Valois, doesn’t want to take any risks.”

By now you’re sure you’re dealing with another thief, one that has wormed his way into the family’s security personnel and undoubtedly has his eye on the entire collection. Nobody goes to such great lengths for a small score. It must’ve cost him a great deal of money to get his identity together and a great deal of effort to gain the family’s trust.

He’s a professional, but so are you. “Yes,” you exhale in a long breath, still true to your act as the upset French wife. “Yes, I completely understand, monsieur.”

As he is walking you back to the garden where the party is taking place, one hand on your lower back and the other by his side, he eventually confirms your suspicions. “What piece of the collection are you after, hm?,” he hums under his breath.

When you have made sure no-one is eavesdropping on the conversation, you answer honestly. “The Monet. You?”

“My men are outside waiting for my signal. At midnight, there will be a diversion,” he nods in the direction of the ice sculpture. Behind it, people have gathered in anticipation of the fireworks. “Make sure you’re gone by then.”

“No problem. Still have enough time to secure my pay check and steal that Monet.”

He chuckles darkly, his hand on the small of your back curling around your waist in a vice-like grip. “You can forget about that, missy. The Monet belongs to my employer. And thanks to your little stunt back there, nobody will suspect me now.”

“Let go of me,” you hiss through clenched teeth. “You triggered the alarm on purpose!”

You’ve immersed the heart of the festivities and he finally lets go of you. “I’m the puppeteer,” he grins as he takes a bow. “And I believe my reputation proceeds me.”

“The puppeteer,” you mull the name around in your mouth like a bad taste.

He is one of the most wanted thieves in the art business, a well-known name on the black market. He can get you anything, from a long-lost Picasso to a highly desired Ensor from a private collection. But this kind of service also comes at a price, one only a very select clientele can afford to pay. He also likes to take his time, creating elaborate alibies as well as eliminating any competition.

He’s seen your face, so you’re as good as dead. But you’ve got a couple tricks up your sleeve, too.

Inching close enough, your lips hovering over his in a small smile, you cup his face and look into his eyes. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I believe my name must ring a bell.”

For a moment, disbelief is written all over his face. But as soon as you’ve uttered those words, they have been erased from his mind. His eyes are locked with yours as you search his mind for any traces of your encounter now and earlier.

He blinks a few times and you release him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “This is for Monaco,” you whisper into his ear as you repeat the gesture, cradling his face in your hands and keeping his eyes on you until they turn expressionless, all memories wiped away. You’ve made him a blank slate.

“This is for ruining my life,” you tell him as you take a step back, “It was me you ran off the road while you were being chased by the police for stealing that Van Gogh. This is your judgement day.”

Taking out your cell phone from your clutch, you dial the number of the French police. Again in impeccable French, you tell them you’ve seen masked men enter the premises, followed by a description of the security guard that let them in. Immediately hanging up afterwards, you toss the phone in a nearby fountain, certain they will never trace it back to you.

At the makeshift car park, your eyes scan for an easily accessible car. Your heels click against the concrete floor as you find yourself an easily accessible car that will blend in nicely. It’s sleek and black and unlocked, one of the biggest mistakes made my rich people who think that the valet will take it all off their hands. Unfortunately for them, this valet didn’t even bother pressing that one little button. Luckily for you, you’ve got yourself a getaway car now.

Opening the door to the driver’s side, you slide into the seat and attempt to start up the ignition. Once the right wires have been crossed, the engine roars under your awakening touch, purring like a cat being caressed once your rest your hand on the steering wheel.

“Let’s see what this baby can do,” you smirk to yourself, pulling away and pushing the engine to a greater and greater speed until the houses and the city flashes by in an imperceptible way. Everything has become a blur and so has your life’s purpose. Dissolved. Erased.

Turning the radio up, another pop song blasting through the speakers, you block out the oblivion tingling your mind. But not long after you’ve put the party behind you, a charcoal grey motorcycle turns up on your left side, approaching fast. It’s impossible to discern whether the driver is male or female, the leather blending seamlessly with the darkness of night. This sets off an alarm bell, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

You decide to take an unexpected turn, spiralling down more narrow streets where the car poses a tight fit. It’s a silent drive down an unfamiliar track, with no GPS signal to guide you to the other end. But you know the French Riviera like the back of your hand and all roads eventually wind up together. You’ll find your way back in the nick of time. At least you’ve lost that fishy motorcycle.

A loud thud forebodes the screeching tyres that follow as your hands claw at the steering wheel. The motorcycle has returned and has now proceeded to push you off the road. If this were your own car, you’d always keep a gun at your disposal. But now you’re left completely defenceless, your only option the safety of this car. Nevertheless, the person on the motorcycle is already one step ahead of you, pulling out their own gun and shooting at your tyres. The car spins out of control and if not for your seatbelt, you would’ve flown out of the vehicle within seconds before the crash.

Your head feels like it’s no longer attached to your neck and your eyes are falling shut under the impact of the collision. The lead taste of blood fills your mouth as a dark figure shows up in the corner of my eye, the motorcycle parked not far away from the crash site. You’re about to pass out when the car door, already unhinged by the accident, is ripped from the vehicle by a strong and swift hand. The person controlling the motorcycle is not a man, but a woman. A woman with red hair and sharp eyes like the daggers attached to her thighs.

“Who the fuck are you?,” you whisper with the last of your strength.

She smirks and grips your hair in a fist, pulling your head back so I’m forced to look at her. “I’m Black Widow, bitch,” she snarls before slamming your face into the steering wheel, knocking you out instantly.

Part 2

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @myserium @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @jurassicbarnes @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @xbergiex

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