#and like babe its the 1930s none of that is happening

[crescentmoonrider]

writes historical fanfic and tags it with Period Typical Homosexuality

[chaoticace2005]

Text lurking in scenes in the first two Hazbin Hotel episodes: (I was bored and when seeing text I need to pause to read so I decided I’d do a service for anyone who needs it)

Spoilers below:

Episode 1:

21:45

News Ticker: SHIT!! THE EXTERMINATION IS HAPPENING IN SIX MONTHS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL! CONFIRMED! LEGIT! FUCK! CFVGBHNJM WE ALL DEAD SOON!! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!

Episode 2:

:56

So I’m thinkin, you and three huge guys are getting it on and it’s really hot and oily and then it’s revealed your on a boat and it’s sinking so you all have to cum as fast as you can. (I hate everything I'm writing but I've already committed so... plus nobody else should have to pause their screens to read this.)

Have you seen temperature play vids? Lol cause there is gonna be ice!!!!!!!

So get that flat honey ass to the studio baby~ as you can see the ideas are F L O W I N G

Haha sooooooo its been thirty seconds……

don’t be like this baby

This isn’t cute Angel. Legit I’m so bored of this little cat and mouse chase.

FR over it!

Fuckibng bitch!! (Yes, I spelt that as said on screen)

Babe.

Angel.

Where the fuck are you??????

3:41

VOXTEK ASSIST (top right)

“Hi Vox”

VoxTek: Can I assist you today?

VOXTECH (under Voxtek Assist)

Vox: You can be just like me!

V- Watch!

Trust Us*

Vox: It's great! I'd buy it!

*With what? That’s none of your business

9:42

News Ticker: SO THE RADIO GUY’S BACK. I DON’T THINK YOU NOTICED. I DIDN’T AT FIRST— I WAS TOO BUSY BEING A MUCH MORE INTERESTING AND IMPORTANT PERSON, BUT FUCK IT, NEWS IS SLOW TODAY I GUESS. I’M TOTALLY NOT WORRIED ABOUT THIS GUY AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU BE. I TOTALLY WRECKED HIS SHIT LAST TIME.

9:49

FUCK ALASTOR

11:02

Vox screen

A PROBLEM HAS BEEN DETECTED AND VOX HAS BEEN SHUT DOWN TO PREVENT DAMAGE TO HIS SYSTEMS.

THIS PROBLEM SEEMS TO BE CAUSES BY THE FOLLOWING FILE: ALASTOR.EXE

VOX.EXE_CRASH_ERROR_EAT_SHIT_ALASTOR

CHECK TO MAKE SURE ALL ((FUCKING 1930S LOOKING ASS)) HARDWARE AND SOFTWARE IS UP TO DATE AND PROPERLY INSTALLED. ASK VOX FOR ANY VOXTEK UPDATES YOU MIGHT NEED.

IF PROBLEMS CONTINUE, ((FUCK YOU ALASTOR)) DISABLE OR REMOVE ANY ALASTOR(S) FROM THE GENERAL VICINITY. IF YOU NEED TO USE ‘UNSAFE MODE’ RESET YOUR VOXTEK DEVICE PRESS F5 AND SELECT ‘ADVANCED STARTUP OPTIONS’ THEN SELECT ‘UNSAFE MODE’

TECHNICAL INFORMATION:

******STOP: ALASTOR.EXE ((OLD TIMY PRICK.RADIO))***

[latenightcinephile]

#899: ‘Babes in Arms’, dir. Busby Berkeley, 1939.

cw: explicit 1930s racism.

To get a sense of how I feel about Babes in Arms, join me on the odyssey that resulted in me actually seeing the film at last.

Usually I try not to read too much about a film before I see it, but when I'm unable to track something down I do a bit of skimming around to get an idea of why it's so elusive. These missing films almost inevitably turn out to be old, experimental, or out of print. Babes in Arms confused me, though - a Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney collaboration, directed by Busby Berkeley, I thought it would be easy to find in a legitimate form. Ten years later, I was finally able to find a copy available online - a DVD that doesn't appear to be an official print from anywhere in particular. I sat down to watch this mysterious relic of the Hollywood musical era, and boy.

Babes in Arms is a horrifying, fascinating, wild fucking time.

One of the things that's most bewildering about the film is how little spectacle there is, given that spectacular musicals are the one thing Busby Berkeley is associated with. The songs in the film are almost entirely different to those in the stage musical that the film was supposedly based on, and the vast majority of them would later turn up in Singin' in the Rain: Babes in Arms uses, at various points, 'Good Morning', 'Lucky Star', 'Broadway Melody' and 'Singin' in the Rain' itself. The most recognisable song from the stage musical, 'The Lady is a Tramp', is stripped of its lyrics and used as background music. For a film about Broadway and vaudeville, the lack of spectacle is bizarre, and where it does appear, as in the film's title song, the spectacle is absurd. Told that they're not allowed to come and appear with their parents, the teenagers rally together in a musical number that features burning torches, riffs from Wagner, and kids skipping in a circle around a flaming pyre. I started to understand why Margaret Hamilton's character wanted to put all these kids in a trade school - they're clearly menaces to society as they are. The one musical number that feels like a Berkeley one is 'God's Country', and aside from the alarmingly jingoistic lyrics, this song is so over-the-top that it's a true showstopper (literally, it's at the very end of the film). You just have to avoid thinking too hard about the racist elements.

Speaking of. Halfway through, when these kids launch their big stage show to save their families from being evicted... that's when I realised why this film is so difficult to track down. An eight-minute number in blackface. I'm a firm believer that no film can have too little blackface in it (there are some films with none at all that could stand to have even less) but Babes in Arms devotes about a twelfth of its total runtime to this number. And watching it in the moment, it drags on and on, somehow getting more appalling with each verse. That should disqualify it from being recommended, and I think it's telling that none of the write-ups of the film that I consulted when I was searching mentioned the number even existed. It's maddening that Judy Garland is doing some absolutely stunning work throughout the film, because I wanted to flat-out hate the movie. 'I Cried for You' is an astonishingly well-delivered song, and it's a shame it's surrounded by multiple levels of weird racism.

Pictured: people who should bloody well know better.

Then there's the plot, which hangs together well enough at a first glance, but has almost no continuous line through it. As an example, here's what happens when Mickey Moran (Rooney) gets the funding for his show, with the reversals numbered for convenience.

The funding comes from Baby Rosalie (June Preisser), a child actress who insists on being the headliner in exchange. This means Mickey needs to cut Patsy (Garland) from the show. Typically, this conflict would be made worse by Rosalie being totally inept, but 1) she's very talented, turning cartwheels as a warmup. Patsy takes on the role of understudy. Mickey is persuaded to kiss Rosalie during a rehearsal, so Patsy runs away to get advice from her mother. Her mother tells her it's wrong to walk out on a show. 2) Patsy goes back. Shortly before the big show opens, Rosalie is told that she is forbidden from appearing on stage, even though she wants to. 3) She doesn't. Mickey panics about what to do now he has no star, forgetting that 4) he already has an understudy.

Every time it seems like there's a big conflict brewing, it's rapidly resolved, and the film never asks you to recall anything that happened more than twenty minutes before (after Baby Rosalie is pulled away from the opening night, she doesn't reappear in the film, her purpose served).

It's tempting to say that this rudimentary plot is a result of the musical being in its early stages, but this film was made the same year as The Wizard of Oz, so that can't be it. I'd wager it's because Berkeley has used the revue structure of the Broadway musicals he was acquainted with for a film instead. This film doesn't need a deep plot because the drawcards are the musical numbers. Unfortunately, those musicals that happened to have more consistent plots also had better musical numbers, and Babes in Arms sort of faded into obscurity. Aside from Garland's numbers, that's probably where it's safest to leave it.

[theaetherhealerffxiv]

FFXIV Write - Week One - Prompt 4 - Shifting Blame

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

—-

FFXIV Oneshot: OC Based Fanfiction

Rating: Warning there are graphic scenes of violence in this!! [rated M]

Pairings: None

Summary: Sophia, a Oracle of the Source is faced with the fact she can no longer hear the Mothers voice. Once she leaves the altar she will be faced with death. Until a Emissary of Darkness comes with a proposition. Will she take it?

Word Count: 1930

“Merciful Mother, why can I no longer hear your voice?”  The young woman cried, the tears spilling hot down her chilled cheeks. Outside she could hear the clamoring of people, they wanted to hear her revelations from the Mother Crystal. The great Hydaelyn who had blessed her since she was born. Had granted her powers over the Light, and allowed her to listen to Her voice. In the passing months Sophia had heard less and less of her ever constant goddess. Today was her birthday, and her usual communion day. The altar before her had gifts from the people of the village, nearby city, and the farmers that dotted the countryside. Gifts that where to bless her so that she could bring them the revelation from Hydaelyn. But she heard naught from the Mother. 

Holding her head she sobbed, without a revelation she was sure that the good people would fear the worst. That the Mother had left them to the devices of the Allagans, the great people who had as of late been conquering land after land. They did not believe that Sophia was blessed and even sought to kill her - but if she did not bring them word of the Mother they would never have the chance to. The people were sure to do something to her, she knew this. Her warden, R’aja waited for her at the entrance. He would be the first she was sure, despite knowing the old man since she was a babe he was always cruel to her when it came to matters of the Mother. 

“Temper the Light Sophia, you must become the perfect Oracle. You are the first, you must set an example.” His words echoed in her mind as she shivered on the stone. R’aja was so dedicated to the Mother, he had been raised in her temples. Breaking his heart without a revelation would be the first stone. 

Panic rose in her throat like bile, her bright blue eyes overflowing with tears still. Sophia also knew lying was not going to be an appropriate escape either. R’aja would know; he always did. He would know, and drag her away for judgment as a failed Oracle. Slamming her hands down on the stone she endeavored to keep her sobs as quiet as she could. 

“Oh, you poor child.” A haughty voice floated about her, startled she shot up and looked about. 

“Who is there?!” She called out, standing now and clenching her fists. Sophia was not a fighter, and knew she was likely on a path of death but she would be damned if she allowed someone to defile this altar. Then, suddenly, a mass of darkness appeared beside her and then a man stepped out cloaked in black with a red mask. He reached out and snatched her chin. 

“Poor, poor Oracle. Has your sweet Mother left you?” She could feel the glee drip from his words, and the darkness seeping from his gloved fingers. Sophia slapped his hand away, she did not need her Mothers voice to tell her that he was blessed by the other one. 

“Clearly, He has not left you.” She hissed. “What do you want, oh darkness blessed.” Sophia tilted her head up, no, she would not run from him. Curious, the mans lips - which where uncovered by the mask - smiled wickedly. 

“Why, dear little one of Hydaelyn I have come to deliver you from the death that awaits you outside this.. Lovely, cave.” He dramatically swept his arms around and looked at her as if she would be jumping into those outstretched arms. Instead he was welcomed to a glare. 

“Why,” She muttered, staring at him with distrust. Her blue eyes still burned with the touch of Hydaelyn. “If I perish you will have your way. He will have won no?”

The man dropped his arms. “Well, in a fashion yes, I suppose so.” He crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the small Hyur woman with continued curiosity. “You do not seek an out though do you little Oracle?” 

Sophia turned to look at the glow of the exit. “What Oracle would I be if I ran in the face of adversity? Sure, I will burn, I am scared.” She turned to him with a soft smile. “But then an emissary of the Darkness came and offered to save me.” 

The man tilted his head. “And instead of causing you continued fear I have only bolstered your courage?” Pressing a hand to the top of his mask he sighed. “How troublesome.” 

Sophia laughed. Despite Hydaelyns constant warnings against these emissaries, this man was surprisingly jovial. The fear still sat like a stone in her belly but talking to this stranger had for some reason caused her ease.She felt like the future, no matter how bleak it seemed for her, she would be able to make a difference. Surely this had not been his intention. 

“They will kill you, Oracle.” The man muttered under his breath. “Burn you, spit upon you, throw rocks and blame you for the world's troubles.”

“But, will that bring back balance?” Sophia asked turning to look at him with a frown. “Will my death bring back the balance between Light and Dark? Please, do not pretend I am some ignorant damsel. I have seen it.”

“Perhaps. It would not happen right away… no.” The man stepped forward to regard Sophia further. “But, I know your death will bring solace to the minds of the people. They will expect another one of you to be born.” 

This time the laugh from Sophia’s lips was bitter. “That will not happen. I was not the first Oracle - we are only born once per age. To strengthen the Mother. You of all creatures upon this star know this.” She wrapped her arms around her. “There will be another yes, but not within this age.”

“Wise beyond your age.” The man lifted a golden strand of her hair and smiled.  “So Oracle, what will you do?”

She looked away, feeling tears pricking her eyes again. “Allow them to blame me of course.”

“Allowing the masses to shift the blame from the approaching Allagan army.. To you.” He let the strand of her hair fall. “Admirable.” 

“Hardly,” Sophia brushed off her dress. “I am just doing my duty against you.” She smiled wickedly, swallowing the lump in her throat in favor of pretending to be brave. 

“He hears us you know Oracle.” The man muttered as the darkness began to swallow him up. “Your warden, he will be the first.”

“As I expected.” She turned, her blonde hair shimmering light even though within the cave there was none. “I face my fate with grace. I expect you to do the same when yours comes.”

“Hm, as you wish Oracle. I shall be watching you burn. If you fail.. I shall destroy whom comes after you.” 

“I would expect no less.” 

The Emissary faded away into the inky darkness and as she looked towards the entrance its light was blocked by a Miqo’te man. He was large, his skin sickly pale, his hair white. Sophia could tell at the height of her powers that he had been touched by some darkness as a child but he had never opened up. As she walked towards him his shadowed figure bellowed out to her.

“What is Her will, o’Oracle?” His tone was accusatory. He had heard her and the Emissary speak. 

“None, o’Warden of mine. She does not whisper to me any longer.” Coming to stand in front of him she stared up at his eyes. For a Miqo’te male he was always abnormally large, but now he was frightening. His tail flicked back and forth signalling his irritation even though his face did not give away his disposition. Then suddenly he snatched her arm and yanked her closer to his face.

“You have been consorting with the Darkness, what a disgraceful act for one so blessed as you.” R’aja hissed, his strangely colored eyes staring into her blue. “No longer are you an Oracle, but just a regular whore.”  

Sophia smiled, “Yes, you have cast the first stone. I knew you would. Thank you R’aja, now burn me as the whore I am. Let the people cast their blame upon my shoulders and allow it to burn away with me.” He glared down at her with surprising venom. 

“How dare you say I cast the first stone. I am doing my duty as the Warden of the Oracle.” R’aja hissed squeezing her arm until she winced.

“Then do it, take me to the square, announce that I have not heard Her. Let them kill me.” Sophia yelled. “I am tired of waiting R’aja! Kill me! I have consorted with the Emissaries and gone against Her word! Kill me!” Sophia felt the pain before she realized what had happened. R’aja had struck her face, she gasped as she felt blood fill her mouth and she choked on it. 

“Shameful.” R’aja spoke, his voice icy. 

Gasping her legs gave out and the Miqo’te dragged her away. At first she tried to keep up with him, but everything was spinning and ringing. Sophia could not focus until she found herself within the confines of the small town they had sought shelter at the night before. A crowd was amassing and through the ringing she could hear their whispers and shouts for an explanation. The woman tried not to hang her head, even though it was so very heavy. She would see what was coming, and after R’aja released her she crumpled to the ground. He was saying something but the impact that she had suffered had caused her head to ring once more so she could not hear his words. But she felt the rocks when they were being thrown. They struck everywhere; she did not have the strength to block them.  While she could not hear, through the haze of her vision she could see sticks being thrown at her as well. It was coming then; the fire. Within the crowd her eyes were drawn to a man dressed in black, a red mask donning his features. 

Are you watching? She thought. As your enemy goes down in flames? As I am blamed for the weight of the world? As I bring back balance? Your win will be short lived.. I am sure. The Mother will be back… She will bring a champion. 

Sophia gasped as the first torch hit her body burning her shoulder. She did not have any strength to bat at the small flames that had started in her hair. Then more burning sticks, soon that was all the people threw at her. 

Are you watching? She gazed at the man still. This will be you one day. Death will find you.

She was growing bitter. Sophia knew this was her fate as an Oracle that could no longer hear the Mother, and that had spoken with an Emissary of darkness. No, she was not bitter about that. She was bitter over the very fact that she had to use her body to bring back the balance. To bring equilibrium. Light and darkness, like a scale that could be used to weight souls. Hers, to light, and the mans too dark. 

As the flames licked her skin she felt nothing, her senses becoming clear. She smiled at the crowd, at the man in the red mask. Sophia closed her eyes, and then with the last of her strength said. 

“Let this bring… equilibrium.”