#especially book Lockwood but show Lockwood would simply not

[indelen]

I dunno because canonically Lockwood and Co does not have a uniform/symbology/colors when even small agencies do. And it's shown that they get dismissed more for it but still Lockwood doesn't invest them. Merch is just corporate talk for uniforms, especially when they're not optional. And yea he probably doesn't have money for uniforms but he doesn't have money for Italian and Spanish rapiers either and that doesn't stop him.

Lockwood is the kind of boss that would make merch for everyone and force them to wear it to boost morale, even though, everyone detests wearing the merch, and grumbles about having to wear it.

[darklinaforever]

Canceling shows after one or two seasons is really ridiculous. Most of the best or cult shows today have weak seasons.

For example, the Winx show on Netlfix, I was thoroughly bored during season 1 even though there were a few cool little things here and there. Season 2 was a great improvement and the show was really finally starting to balance out and it had to be canceled.

I know that the story of the show currently continues in comic form, but it will never be the same as with the actors, especially for the Rivusa ship.

And to do that I am still of the opinion that we must simply continue the story in the form of pure books, because seeing drawings that pitifully try to resemble the actors is disturbing, seriously people, engage among the creators fanarts, they will do much better than the official product...

And then we're not going to talk about the shows that are excellent from the first seasons which are still canceled because the success is not as extraordinary as the platforms would have liked while they barely make their promises...

Ain't It 1899, Dead Boy Detectives, Lockwood and Co, My Lady Jane, etc.

[justjudethoughts]

You know who I think we don't talk about enough? Robin. One of the few things I dislike about the books is how flippantly he is discussed — the way Lockwood sort of jokes about how he has "past on" in Lucy's interview, and how George and Lucy talk about how she is the best assistant they have ever had, because Robin "panicked and ran off the roof." The nonchalance seems too calloused, even for Lockwood and George, especially given what we learn later about Lockwood's goal to protect people. So here are some thoughts I have:

I think Robin was fairly young, inexperienced, and one of the only people they could even hire. I think George and Lockwood found him a bit annoying— they were far from great friends with him. But the company was young, and they needed a third person. Robin kinda looked at Lockwood as an older brother. Despite Robin's general inexperience and skittishess, he wanted the job. Lockwood told him, time and time again, that he didn't have to stay. Robin wanted to stay. Wanted to get braver. And Lockwood did everything he could to help make Robin a better agent. Always had his back, tried to keep him safe. Gave him fencing lessons. He never liked Robin. But he was there for him.

And then the accident happened. There was nothing Lockwood or George could have done. They had tried to correct his skittish behavior before. They had trained him. They had done everything except fire him. And it wasn't enough. The guilt would have been crushing if Lockwood and George hadn't made an unspoken vow with each other not to talk about it. To use buisness terms only. No discussion of Robin as a friend, as a younger brother. He was simply a tragically inexperienced agent who didn't take their advice. A little on the annoying side. Good kid, a bit of a pest.

Like everything else, Lockwood stores this away deep inside him. Another person who died after being around him.

When Danny Skinner shows up in the living room, Lockwood's blood freezes. His air, his build — it's all Robin.

[charmquarkstrangequark]

Lucy Carlyle: Impact of her Early Life

As part of the general Lockwood & Co Brainrot that I suffer from, I spend a lot of time thinking about the characters, their motivations, and what they words and actions reveal about themselves, and have been wanting to make some posts about their characterization. Disclaimer: I have exactly zero qualifications to make these assumptions.

Obviously, Book!Lucy and Show!Lucy have some differences. I think Book!Lucy keeps a lot more to herself, but as she's the narrator, we get to know what she's thinking from the inside. Also, there's been some discussion about whether Lucy is an "unreliable narrator" (I have even referred to her that way myself), but it may be more due to how our perception of events is colored by our own emotions and memories. Lucy is, I think, big on self-denial, at least when it comes to admitting her emotions and weaknesses to herself and others. She often relates events that must have had a deep influence on her persona without outright stating how these events shaped her. This is directly due to her early life and experiences.

So what do we know about her early life? She was born to a working class family in a small town in North England ("slate roofs and stone walls"), and Lucy mentions she never remembers her father (who died when she was 6) ever calling her by name. Imagine your parent never actually saying your name; how insignificant would you feel? Both Lucy's parents in the books were big on physical punishment for her and her 6 older sisters; other than punishing them, the girls were mostly ignored. Lucy mentions that her Talent first became known to others when she was 6 years old (incidentally the same age at which Lockwood's appeared), although she later says she can remember hearing voices whispering in the streets after curfew as a "kid in my crib". Her mother waited impatiently until she was 8, old enough to be pulled out of school and employed at Jacobs & Co. Again, her only value is as a source of income.

Book!Lucy was proud to be an agent, but it seems her employer, Jacobs, should not have held the position he did. He was, apparently, the only researcher in his Agency, and he did a piss poor job of it judging by the number of child agents who die on his watch. However, even he could see Lucy's extraordinary Talent, and she is promoted twice as fast her peers, achieving her third grade by age 11. This doesn't, however, seem to add to her self-esteem in any appreciable way. She obviously cared deeply for her fellow agents; she describes spending all of her free time with them and rarely seeing her family. Their loss would have to have affected her deeply. But after listing their names, she says, simply, "They're all dead now."

She characterizes herself as unattractive (a clear departure from Show!Lucy played by the undeniably gorgeous Ruby Stokes). Lucy mentions, "as my mother once said, "Prettiness wasn't my profession." She also states that she was quick on her feet but not especially skilled with a rapier. It may be possible that Lucy is prettier than she realizes, or that she has charisma or grows into her looks; she certainly catches the attention of her subsequent employer, Lockwood.

So how does her childhood experience shape Lucy? She underestimates herself and her skills. She sees mostly her own weaknesses and deficiencies. This shouldn't be unexpected when she has grown up with no one who values her for anything except a powerful Talent and a possible source of income. Her self-doubt causes her to be critical of others, looking to see if they are better than how she perceives herself, or if she is the stronger candidate in any area. Being rejected by her father and mother as a young child, and by six agencies in seven days upon arriving in London can't help. She also has a deep desire to be loved and valued (who wouldn't?). As she's only around 13 when she sneaks away from home to go to London, I think her reactions and insecurities are very believable.

Lucy is an exceptional Listener; even she is willing to admit that. It means that she lives in a strange kind of reality, always responding to a wealth of input that isn't readily available to anyone else. But she doubts her own ability to make the right choice based on the information she has. She blames herself for not picking up anything concrete to prevent the deaths of her teammates at Wythburn Mill.

She describes herself as taking orders well and working well as part of a team, but this really underscores her doubts in her ability to choose correctly in dangerous situations. Even her initial outburst with George is fueled by embarrassment rather than self-confidence. Early in the books, she is reluctant to challenge Lockwood on anything in the field, and unable to see where others respect or admire her. These insecurities will cause her to raise Lockwood up on a pedestal and look down on George. Perhaps she sees in George aspects of herself she doesn't like, or prefers Lockwood's aloof treatment of difficult subjects over George's razor sharp wit and perceptiveness.

She's a complex and relatable character, both brave in battle and insecure in her relationships. She desperately wants love and acceptance, but can't offer either to herself. She's only sure of her Talent, and because of this, is drawn to cross the veil of life to engage and empathize with the dead rather than take the risk of fully immersing herself in life. These traits will fuel her exponential growth in her abilities, but also put herself and those she loves at risk, until she is able to finally accept herself for who she is: strong, weak, brave, Talented, perceptive, afraid and also very capable, loving, and loveable, and loved.

[oceanspray5]

hello! i simply must know more about lockwood & co. i've seen a couple reblogged posts about it and it does look like something i'd vibe with, but is there anything you want to share in support of it? are there any characters you are particularly attached to? what are the vibes? i would simply love to learn more.

Ahhh I am HAPPY to ramble all about it. Honestly its hard to pick any ONE thing because everything is so good! Like it could easily have been a kids show but its not? The dialogue is so wonderfully written. The shots and cinematography is SO beautiful and artistic and there is so much care in the craft that its been getting rave reviews from absolutely everyone! Critics, fans, general public? You name it.

The show is based on a book series by Jonathan Stroud. Basically its zombie apocalypse where you have to fight the zombies but instead of zombies its ghosts and the only one who can actually see/hear/feel the zombies are children-teens but the danger they pose is to everyone in society as a whole! The vibe is slightly spooky but so completely cozy. Its very hard to describe but it blends the two very well! Its a show I can rewatch again and again and always find something new or not get bored of. Its just that well made and easy to rewatch (and getting me to rewatch 1 thing twice within the same year isn't the easiest task lol).

All the characters are amazing but especially the main trio! They're my perfect blorbos. They're all traumatized weirdos and the best found family and if you're looking for a ship to fall in love with Lockwood and Lucy are so repressed and SO in love and the slow burn is amazing but doesn't feel like a slow burn cuz the intimacy between them is so perfect!!

Also! One thing I absolutely LOVE about the show is its emphasis on friendship not being lesser of a priority than romantic love. George is so important as a character. He's not just the third wheel to Lockwood and Lucy and they show that in such a clear way and its really cool cuz i haven't seen many other shows do that.

The actors are all so amazingly talented. I love them so much. If you go down my blog you'll see its mostly Lockwood and Co and locklyle gifsets! I definitely say its worth it. I put it on casually one day as something to unwind to after a long day and immediately got obsessed! Another thing I have to say is the show takes place at night mostly but you can SEE STUFF! It's not Game of Thrones S8 levels of dark screen. Everything is visible and so very clear. The colors in this show are especially beautiful and used very nicely to add to the storytelling.

This got a little long (can you tell I love the show and can ramble so much more about it if given the chance too? Lol). But if you have any more questions or wanna know more about the show in general hit me up! Or if you decide to watch it and whatever you think about it, I'd love to hear whatever you have to say!

[nelliterary]

Sooo, Lockwood & Co...

The show was obviously very very good (and i REALLY hope they renew it) but since reading the books i have some thoughts about the changes they made.

This is (possibly part 1?) of me ranting about the differences and similarities between the books and show "Lockwood & Co"

All of this is simply my personal opinion, so if you disagree with something, please be respectful towards this post.

(Keep in mind English isn't my first language:) )

———————————

1. One of the biggest changes they made was George. The ones who have read the books would know that originally, his name was George Cubbins. Cubbins was a stereotypical white, fat, blonde and unhygienic boy, who actually happened to be very smart. I personally really like that they changed George's appearance in the show completely. The books lacked racial representation, as the first canonical black character became a part of the story only in the third book. And although different body types should also be represented more in books and film industry, i feel as if his weight was only talked negatively about in the books, which isn't good either. I very much prefer George Karim, who is known more for his knowledge and habit to stress clean or cook, rather than his lack of hygiene. HOWEVER, his personality was toned down a bit in the show, which i am not bothered by, but reading George's sassy lines in the books was truly a lot of fun. Not that he lacks any in the show:))

I really liked that in the books, George actually had more of a feud with Kipps than Lockwood did. The way he constantly verbally attacked Quill was hilarious to read and i wish we'd gotten more of that in the show.

2. Speaking of personalities, i have to mention Lucy's, especially in the first book. Because the girl certainly had one... It actually did annoy me how many times she commented (negatively) on George's weight and appearance. A few times, it was mentioned how when he was bothering her, she imagined "kicking his large back". It seemed as she only cared about getting Lockwood's attention, etc. (That's why i don't trust most male authors with writing teenage girls🥲) THANK GOD she had character development after the first book because those bits were truly offensive and an unnecessary characteristic. I'm glad that they made Lucy a bit more reasonable in the show.

Now that i think of it, everyone's personalities were bigger and funnier in the books. Some of Lockwood's sarcastic lines were so good. I wonder why they toned them down for the show.

———————————

Okay, i think that's enough for this post but I'm pretty sure this isn't gonna be the only one.

Also, i probably critique the books a lot in these posts but that doesn't mean that i love them any less. I still believe they're amazing, even with their small flaws:)

[freckled-moss]

Autumn Tea Chapter 7

Lockwood & Co.🌸Historical AU🌸Locklyle

1117 words

Chapter 6

Part 1

Gardening did wonders for drowning out a person’s thoughts, and for that Lucy was very grateful.

She couldn’t think of Mr. Lockwood at all while plowing soil for new flowers to be planted into. She couldn’t think of his hands gracefully taking a delicate necklace and brushing against her neck as he clipped it on. She especially couldn’t think of him whispering “There. Just perfect,” in such a soft voice as he stepped back.

What was she to do?

Continue gardening, was one, but by now she was more attacking the soil than plowing it so she hurriedly put down the hoe and fanned her rapidly heating face.

So much for not thinking.

Honestly, it’s not like it had happened yesterday. In fact, it had been a good two weeks since that night and she had been back at the estate for one of them.

The rest of the trip went by in a blur, and she could hardly keep up with whatever meetings Mr. Lockwood dragged her into. The only part she really still remembers is bringing him tea every morning.

She wears the necklace every day.

Even now, as she rummages through dirt, the necklace is round her neck. It must’ve been so expensive she can’t imagine leaving it in a dusty drawer every day.

This is hardly the activity it was made to be worn in, though, she thought to herself a bit ashamedly.

Finding that gardening was quite a bust for the day, she decided to wash up and get an early start on dinner. Holly will certainly be happy to have the extra help.

Part Two

Holly liked to think that she was not an oblivious person. In fact, she thought of herself as rather observant.

Perhaps that’s why both Lucy’s and Mr. Lockwood’s idiocy has driven her up a wall.

Something happened over the trip. She knew that. What she didn’t know is what. Neither of them would tell her.

She also knew that this is the most distracted she has ever seen Mr. Lockwood in all the years of knowing him, which is certainly saying something.

She was in the library going about her normal routine of organizing and dusting when she noticed Mr. Lockwood standing quite still on the balcony. She called up to him, but he didn’t reply, and when she followed his gaze she noticed him staring at the Shakespeare section.

Mr. Lockwood never showed any real interest in Shakespeare, so obviously his mind was elsewhere.

She called for him again, louder this time, and he startled.

“Oh! Hello, Holly.”

“Hello, Mr. Lockwood. May I ask what’s got your head in the clouds?”

“Head in the clouds? My head’s not in the clouds. I’m perfectly aware.”

“Oh? So, you were simply looking longingly at one of your least favorite authors.”

“No,” he smiled at her, and Holly knew she wasn’t going to get anything out of him.

“Absolutely ridiculous…” she muttered before heading to the door. The books had been dusted enough for today.

Part Three

“George!”

George couldn’t say it was quite unusual for Holly to shout his name from across the hallway, but usually it wasn’t stated with such urgency.

“Yes, Holly?” She had properly stomped her way over to him and huffed in anger before righting herself.

“Please tell me you have noticed Mr. Lockwood’s infuriating behavior recently.”

He looked at her over his glasses for a second, “If you mean he’s had his head in the clouds-“

“Yes I mean he’s had his head in the clouds!”

“-then yes. In fact, I even noticed Lucy staring at that ghastly portrait of him in the front hall.”

“Oh, I knew something happened between them!”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Lockwood’s told me he got Lucy a dress when they went down to Paris.”

“A dress?”

George smirked, “And a necklace. Diamond, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, how could Lucy not have told me about that?” she muttered.

“If you asked me,” George continued (he always liked talking his mind, and this is perhaps the first time he’s had the upper hand on Holly, so he wouldn’t waste it) “Lockwood’s quite besotted with her.”

“As is Lucy with him.”

“Yes.”

They both stood considering the conclusion for a moment before Holly spoke again.

“So what are we to do?”

“We?” he briefly took off his glasses to wipe them on his coat, “Why would we do anything? I say we let the two idiots figure it out themselves.”

“You would say that,” Holly sighed and began walking away. Dinner needed making, “but I think they may need some help, and I’m not one to leave my friend helpless.”

She disappeared down the hall.

“Quite,” he muttered to himself.

Part Four

Anthony Lockwood found that focusing on dinner while Lucy Carlyle stood near him was actually quite impossible.

She was still wearing the necklace.

At this point, he doesn’t know if it’s because she simply loves it so much she can’t bring herself to take it off, or if it’s because she won’t know how to put it back on later.

He hopes it’s the former, but if it was the latter he doesn’t see any problem in putting her necklace on for her for the rest of the foreseeable future.

He decided to focus on the potatoes. He took a bite.

“What excellent boiled potatoes you’ve made, Holly. Many years since I’ve had such an exemplary vegetable.”

“Lucy actually made those, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes, and you had the same dish last week.”

“Did I? Certainly it wasn’t the same potatoes?”

“No.”

“There you go, then.”

He tried to go back to eating, but found that his mind couldn’t stop wandering to Lucy making the potatoes, or working in the garden, or lit by the moon in Paris.

The whole time wearing that silly, little necklace.

It is a shame that she didn’t wear it while at the banquet.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, and his fork hit his plate as he stood.

“Got what?” said George. “Finally figured out how to expand our clientele?”

“No, of course not! Well, perhaps it might.”

“What is it, then?”

“We’ll have a ball!”

“A ball?” George seemed displeased.

“Yes! With proper dancing and everything. And you’ve got a dress just perfect for it, Luce!”

“Mr. Lockwood,” Anthony found that he was so excited even Holly’s serious tone couldn’t deflate his mood, “Lucy and I couldn’t dance, we’d have to serve the guests.”

“Nonsense! I’ll hire someone to cater for the night. I’ve plenty money from how understaffed we are.”

“Oh, how nice,” she said flatly.

“Yes! It’s decided then. This Friday, we dance!”

[thehollowprince]

It's been years but I'm still pissed about Bonnie's brief flirtation with the "dark side" where she declared she was done being pushed around. Only for her to be a doormat the very next episode. I wanted so badly for her to free herself and actually be allowed to follow through. And hard agree on making the Originals only a thousand years old, and Klaus wasn't menacing or foreboding at all lol. Why was everyone so afraid?! They all saw him throw tantrums like a spoiled brat

It's been years but I'm still pissed about Bonnie's brief flirtation with the "dark side" where she declared she was done being pushed around. Only for her to be a doormat the very next episode. I wanted so badly for her to free herself and actually be allowed to follow through.

I could rant for days - weeks, even months or years! - about how badly and unfairly they treated Bonnie Bennett. (Tyler Lockwood, too, but that's a different post for another time.)

Bonnie Bennett was, from day one, my favorite character. I've been a fan of witches for years, dating all the way back to one Willow Rosenberg and then the Halliwell Sisters on Charmed. We all have a group that we like in this particular genre, be it vampires or werewolves or whatever. Mine just happens to be witches and for that I zeroed in on Bonnie immediately. But almost right from the start she was treated as secondary, as a plus one rather than one of the main characters, which is what she was supposed to be.

Like many of us, I watched in abject horror as Bonnie was continually shoved aside for the various other romances going on (whether it was that obnoxious, vomit-inducing love triangle or Caroline's things with Matt and then Tyler). Sure, Bonnie eventually got some sort of action, but never to the extent everyone else did. And then there was the fact that she continously sacrificed her happiness and then even her family for the sake of Elena because the Salvatore Brothers decreed it so. No one sacrificed more, or lost more, over the course of this show than Bonnie Bennett (with the possible exception of Tyler).

So when season three came to a close and Bonnie declared that she wasn't going to be pushed around any more, I was ecstatic. Bonnie was finally going to stand up for herself and put those stupid brothers and that family of Aryan snowflakes in their place and remind everyone of what a boss ass witch she was.

But then season four happened...

I am entirely convinced that Julie Plec hated Kat Graham, or at the very least, the character of Bonnie. I've already said, in this post and on my blog before, but no character suffered the way Bonnie did. Something that I'm sure of is if they'd gone the way of the books and made Bonnie and Irish-American white girl, none of the horrible shit that Bonnie went through never would have happened.

Its not a season of The Vampire Diaries unless Bonnie Bennett suffers!

Back to my point... we go from season three, where we get Bonnie finally - finally! - standing up for herself, to the beginning of season four (canonically the day after season three ended) and she's letting Klaus and the spirits and everyone else push her around again.

And then, to add insult to injury, they take her powers away... again.

It's not a season of The Vampire Diaries unless Bonnie Bennett loses her magic.

That was especially disappointing for me because I was looking forward to Bonnie experimenting with dark magic and maybe going full Dark Willow for a little (sort of what i guess they're doing now with one of Alaric's kids?), but as with most things that concerned Bonnie, we had to have her suffer before the Fratty Professor swoops in and teaches her all about her magic and blah blah blah. Of course, be also has a nefarious agenda, because who doesn't on this show, and it's not really Bonnie getting to make her own decisions, but more along the lines of everyone else making those decisions for her but keeping up the guise of free will.

Every time we're finally on the verge of Bonnie getting to put her foot down, they always take it away from us. The closest we got to the Badass Bonnie we all craved was when they made her the Huntress, after, of course, putting her life in mortal peril... again. She could have killed all of the vampires and the world would have been a better place without them. I think the biggest cockup there was that they had Matt try to stop her instead of helping her.

And hard agree on making the Originals only a thousand years old, and Klaus wasn't menacing or foreboding at all lol. Why was everyone so afraid?! They all saw him throw tantrums like a spoiled brat.

Oh, the Mikaelsons...

There is so much they could have done there. Even if they had wanted to keep the whole Viking aspect of the story, it would have been so easy to simply go a different route. They could have called themselves the Originals, because... I don't know, maybe they were the last vampires turned by the Old Ones (the first vampires in the books) and maybe they were they only survivors of this First Brood and they decided to use the reputation of these Old Ones after they all went to sleep or disappeared for whatever reason.

That way it would have made sense to have them be afraid of so many things despite their supposed superiority. Maybe Mikael was a devotee of these Old Ones and was hunting his children down for their blasphemy, as opposed to just wanting to kill the bastard son who was more like him than any of his other children.

The possibilities of what they could have done were so many.

And as for Klaus. Everyone feared him for two reasons. A: the plot said so, and B: his temper tantrums had a body count.

[rich-garners]

Wuthering Heights review- 17/4/20

Good morning! I’m posting my first book review today- ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Emily Bronte. Warning for Spoilers!!

It would be wrong to say that I was pleasantly surprised by ‘Wuthering Heights’, because it is a far from pleasant book. However, I enjoyed it a lot more than I was expecting to. Due to its reputation, I couldn’t go in to it with a completely clear mind. I had certain expectations- namely that it would be far more romantic than it actually was. Heathcliff and Cathy clearly love one another, but in such a bizarre and toxic way that ‘romance’ is a word that simply cannot be used to describe their relationship. 

There can be no doubt that Heathcliff is a fascinating and complex character. I was personally intrigued by the issue of nature vs. nurture within him- I wanted to believe that he became such a twisted and cruel man because of his terrible treatment as a child, but a part of me felt that there was something inherently malicious about him. This could be what draws him to Cathy- she too is widely accepted to be dislikeable and deeply damaging to those around her. In a way, I think I respect Bronte for this- to have your heroine be more than a beautiful paragon of virtue, to make her as manipulative and cruel as the men around her, could be described as something of a feminist statement. I wouldn’t push that argument very far, but I was struck by how different Cathy is from the women in the other Gothic novels I have read, like Dracula and Frankenstein. She is not just a passive damsel; she brings about her own downfall as opposed to being brought down by others. #feminism???

One of the preconceptions about this book and its characters which I completely lacked was the knowledge that Heathcliff is not white. This is probably because he is almost exclusively portrayed as ‘dark’ in the sense that he is a white man with black hair and a moody expression. While I am no expert on race in literature, or on Heathcliff for that matter, I couldn’t help but feel his mistreatment by almost everyone on account of his race is a key component of his character. Whether Bronte is making a statement in favour of not treating non-white people as non-humans (as Heathcliff is treated throughout) I cannot say. On the one hand, it is clear that the horrible abuse Heathcliff is subjected to is at least partially responsible for the man he becomes. He is also still considered to be a romantic hero, both capable of love, and to an extent, deserving of it. On the other hand, there can be little doubt that he is a horrible person who does needlessly horrible things. This is not to suggest that representation of the marginalized has to only show people as good and innocent, but to say that with so little representation for POC in literature, it can’t be good that one of the few examples of someone who is not white in 19th c. lit is a man who takes it upon himself to destroy the lives of those around him, spend his time desecrating the dead and can generally be considered to be an abusive and toxic man. 

Phew. Nothing is ever simple, is it? All disclaimers aside, I found that Heathcliff is both the most intriguing and potentially the least explored character. I really want to read the story from Heathcliff’s POV. I understand that he is a tortured, troubled soul and all of that, but the narrative voices and framing devices prevented the reader from fully appreciating his pain. And I love appreciating the pain of Byronic heroes. It is one of the few things in life which brings me joy. 

As for the narrative voice, I found it compelling. While the framing device is often recognized as an issue (and I would tend to agree- it does limit the immediacy of the story) I found the character of Nelly refreshing. She appeared to be the only normal, sane person within the two households. I liked that she wasn’t just an observer to the story, but an active participant. I think what made ‘Wuthering Heights’ such an intense, claustrophobic and ultimately gripping read was the fact that there was no real opportunity for escape for each of the characters. I must admit that I often had to google exactly how all of they were all related to each other. While I am unwilling to judge the book too harshly for all of the cousin marrying going on due to the time it was written, the characters are related to an named after each other to a disturbing extent- Catherine Earnshaw marries Edgar Linton and becomes Catherine Linton. Isabella Linton marries Heathcliff and becomes Isabella Heathcliff. Her son is called Linton Heathcliff. Catherine’s daughter is Catherine Linton again, who marries young Linton, to become Catherine Heathcliff. She then marries Hareton, becoming Catherine Earnshaw. And thus, the circle is complete... They all double and mirror each other- the physical resemblances and the merging of the names of the characters is uncanny and strange. The most uncomfortable passages are towards the end, when it becomes clear just how powerless young Cathy is in the hands of Heathcliff. What makes this book scary isn’t is ghostliness, but the absolute control that a bitter, abusive man is able to have on everyone around him. 

Overall, I really enjoyed ‘Wutheirng Heights’. It was engaging and I was eager to read on, becoming especially gripped by the end. Even by the final few pages, I did not know whether things would turn out for the best. There are several narrative quirks that I found jarring- the repeated returns to the voice of Lockwood (who I intensely disliked on the account of him leaving young Cathy to the mercy of Heathcliff simply because she was not nice to him) drew me away from the story, and the paragraphs written in Joseph’s accent were very annoying and detracted immensely. Despite this, I liked ‘Wuthering Heights’ much more than I thought I would. It is a disturbing tale which raises a lot of questions about the nature of love and fate. 

P.S my friend has a hamster called Heathcliff and he is adorable 

[deadmisanthrope]

#MisanthropeSolo - Rêve Noir

Rêve Noir - Domenico Sigalas

https://youtu.be/KEwP2fA7PGY

As I open the closet that hadn't been opened for over a century, the dark wooden doors creak as the old brass hinges turn, the smell of the past strikes me, and along with it all those memories I thought were long gone, bleached out, faded, not recalled ever since.

Inside the massive cabinet, hidden from time itself and now exposed to me for the first time in a long time, well-known items, once dear to me, like my father's pocket watch - a precious gem, not because it was his, but because I liked it, liked the sound of it, liked the weight in my hand and how it ticked constantly, always reliable if there was someone who wound it up every once in a while -, my mother's music box, which was meant to go to Stefan after she had passed away, but I selfishly kept it for myself. Stefan had his memories of her. The untainted memories of a child, too young to see what was going on behind closed doors in the world of adults. But I knew. I had seen. I had heard. Witnessed. And I still remember vividly.

Carefully I lift the box from the shelf, leaving a dark square where the wood wasn't exposed to the decay of the past century, blow the dust from the casket and slowly turn the key-shaped screw at the backside to wind up the mechanism. A strange melancholia, like a heavy blanket encloses me as the melody reaches my ear, and I open the marquetry adorned lid, as I always used to as a child to watch the comb-shaped piece of metal struck by the small pins on the barrel, turning inside the box, slowly and constantly.

Placing the music box back on the shelf while its strangely soothing song fills the room with not just the mere tune but with a certain atmosphere I hadn't felt in a long time but which still comes naturally to me, my eyes roam further through the shelves inside the closet, to explore the long lost treasures of a distant life that once was mine.

On another board, a couple of books I used to read. I was far too young to understand the deeper meaning of the words when I started to read Baudelaire, but I already appreciated the way he painted pictures of a world I had yet to explore by only using words. Words we all knew. Words we all used. And yet he managed to use them in a way I never experienced before. I even had an original copy from france which I used to learn french autodidactic. With moderate success, to say the least. Next to it a copy of Dante's "la Commedia", an anthology of Poe, well-thumbed, and other books, some of them prosaic novellas, but my predilection was clearly for poetries. Of course my father had other plans for his eldest son than letting him waste time with literature, music, poetry and other unprofitable arts. But I still cherished it as a hobby.

Furthermore, a photograph of Katherine, hidden in another book, but now partly revealed to me; I apparently had to hurry to put it back the last time I took it out, but were too sloppy to hide it properly, so a corner of the photograph became yellow over the years, decades, centuries. I hid it not only from Stefan, but from everyone. Even from her. I used to look at it every once in a while. Sometimes, when I wrote, I liked to place it on the desk next to me, so a part of her was always present and inspired me with more than just her obvious beauty. I also took it out to say her good night, whenever she was too exhausted, too tired to meet me. Of course I was always polite and decent; bid her farewell at  the door to her room when she asked me to, but was yet bold enough to steal a kiss at any given opportunity. Back then I was sure she secretly liked it.

Not much is left of the clothes that were stored in the closet. Generations of moths had feasted on the now mere rags, covered in dust - materialized time - but I can still recall most of the familar attire. The characteristic gray of the confederate army uniform. One of the many chapters in my life I'd like to erase, rip out of the book and burn the pages. After I had returned from the battlefield - deserted, they called it; looking out for myself and do what was reasonable is what I called it, and still do - it had become almost impossible to get into my father's good graces. I came back as an even greater disappointment to him and a shame to my family. The nightmares haunted me for a long time, and sometimes still do. Support for returning soldiers were an alien concept back then, and even when I look at it today, people still have no idea what horrors you have to face; things no human being should ever witness, and yet I think that a species capable of such bestiality deserves just that.

Besides the uniform there are several other pieces, beyond recognition, gone forever. But a surprisingly well preserved sleeve that stands out between the rotting cloths catches my attention.

And as I run my fingers casually along the fabric, take out what appears to be a tailcoat, fragments of the past flare up in my mind. Voices. Laughter. People whose names I don't recall. Music. Dancing. But not me.

I can see myself standing a little aside, right after I had finished a light conversation with a friend of the family, George Lockwood, more to distract myself than actually listening to him. Father would have appreciated to see me being more involved, more interested in the founding family's business. Politics. What an ineffably prosaic sort of pastime. Nothing more it was to me, back those days. And why should I care about the fate of Mystic Falls... when all I cared about... was in the center of the room, dressed in a blue gown and drawing everyone's attention, clinging to my brother's arm as he led her through the crowd, swaggering like a peacock in courtship.

She had chosen him to accompany her on the founders ball. I shouldn't be too worried about my little brother's affection for her, rather should be thankful that he kept her company while I was away, spending days at a confederate army camp just outside Richmond and helping to defend the south. Because it was just that, right? Just a harmless infatuation. But I couldn't help feeling a light sting at the scenery playing out right in front of me. Little did I know about the importance of the founders council in my future life; I just learned about the actual existence of vampires and that my beloved Katherine was one of them, which is why I low-key wished, hoped, that it would have been me who would have had the joy, the honor of being her escort for the dance.

Because of the secret we shared and the trust she put in me by telling me the truth, there was no doubt, that she appreciated my company. Still I remember vividly how we used to spend numerous afternoons wandering in the garden of my family's estate or simply roamed through the village until we reached the Fell's property with the town's church.

And now she seemed to have chosen my brother over me. Him, who whenever the topic of vampires was mentioned, shuddered with fear and disgust. He needs more convincing, I thought back then. She is just making an effort to show him that there is truly no difference between us, I tried to reassure myself. A fool I was. No compulsion needed. Just the feeling that someone cared about my point of view was enough.

From this day on, my courting became bolder. More apparent and obvious for everyone around us. I strolled through town with her, accompanied her when she visited her friend Pearl and made sure everyone saw us. I wanted this to be the image people would memorize. Not the dance at the founder's ball. And she welcomed the additional attention and my interest in her way of living. An inquisitive student I was, eager and hungry for knowledge. I wanted to learn everything and - once she would deem me ready - become one of hers and be with her forever. At night I snuck out of the house to join her in the woods where she showed me to lie in wait. Where she showed me how to bait, how to feed, how to kill...

And the more time I spent with her, the more I diverged from father and my brother; we grew apart, even cold. My brother and I, inseparable all summer, long before she stepped into the picture, rarely talked anymore. Whenever we exchanged words, it led to arguing, no matter how trivial the conversation started out. Especially since he was insistent in persuading father regarding his views on vampires. He even wanted to educate the town council and thought he could sway them. It was his naiveté that eventually led to the events that marked a turning point in our lives: The night of September 25th, 1864.  

Another item veiled by shadows and dust at the bottom of the closet, now brought to light by removing the tailcoat from the hanging rail diverts my attention from the melancholic retrospection of having to share her and - once the object is identified - shoves me right into another, direful memory. Carelessly I place the hook of the coathanger back on the rail, uncaring for possible creases that - over time - might ruin the well-preserved fabric forever and crouch in front of the ancient furniture to reach for what I now realize is not neatly placed on one of the shelving for a reason.

I remember, I felt cold. Cold to the point that every fiber of my body hurt and refused to move or even shift its position. I also remember the smell of damp leaves and poached up soil. There was no sound at first and I felt like floating but at the same time under heavy pressure. Like the air itself was closing and tightening around me. It was a curious feeling and while my subconsciousness began to wrap around it and explore it, I suddenly gasped for air, realizing that I haven't been breathing for quite some time. My body, now finally being able to move, jolts into a sitting position and panic filled me when more impressions kept crashing down on me. Voices, yelling men and screaming women, but far away and even more distant, smoke. And being as cold as the peaty ground I even thought I could feel the warmth of a fire that must have been at least a mile away. I took a quick look around and found myself alone, absent of any company that my foggy memory insisted on. As I looked over my shoulder, I noticed ruts in the ground that led away from my place and... towards the church. Towards the screams and the smoke.

Katherine! It shot through my head and an ice cold fist clutched at my heart. And I jumped to my feet. And I ran. I ran faster than ever before. Perhaps faster than humanly possible.

When I reached the church, I found it blazing fiercely and I quailed. Several carriages waited in the courtyard and those few people who stood outside, armed with whatever they could find, were cheering at the fire, raising their arms with joy, rejoicing. Closer to my own position I rather heard than saw poor little Anna weeping for her mother, eyes red and watery with tears fixed on the conflagration. And instead of giving each other  solace, we both just watched in horror, too afraid to leave the cover of the trees, for we might have been thrown into the burning church as well, if we got caught.

Long after dawn and long after the sun reached and transcended its zenith, when the people of Mystic Falls were sure that all vampires were perished in the fire and left to probably celebrate, I dared to leave the shadows and slowly approached what was left of the former largest building in town. Most of the stone walls had come down and beneath them I could still feel the heat coming from embers that refused to stop licking at the remains of wooden beams. As I slid my feet through the ashes and took the few steps that used to lead to the door, which was now nothing but a stone arch leading to nothing but debris, I felt the heat burning my skin. But it didn't matter. It was nothing compared to excruciating pain she must have felt. And to feel close to her for one last time, as if torturing myself would have lessened her own torment, I endured it for a while.

Slowly I rise from my knees and carefully store the muzzle - too large and peculiar in shape to be made for anything else than a human head - on one of the boards, pulling out the book next to it and part its pages to look at her picture once more; this time I make sure to fully conceal the precious keepsake to preserve it from further decay. And as I do, the soothing melody of the music box slows, further and further, and stops, rendering the room’s atmosphere to the former clotted silence.

Unaffected by any outside influences remains my own memory, unattached to any token that might not stand the test of time. It will always be there, treasured, for eternity. Long after the closet's content and the wood itself has turned to dust.

The old brass hinges creak again as I slowly push the wooden doors shut and seal those items, memories and stories - those and many more - inside, to be found again in the future, by myself or - who knows - by someone else.

~end of solo~

[douxreviews]

Supergirl - ‘Crime and Punishment’ Review

Supergirl: "Years of helping people, wiped away with one lie."

This is one of those episodes where I simply enjoyed, or at least appreciated, nearly every moment of the various storylines.

I felt the profound dismay of Supergirl at how she is currently being called a traitor for something she did not do. Even when she rescues someone who was trapped in a car that was about to explode, he turns on her.

I appreciated Mehcad Brooks’s excellent acting when he was being treated for PTSD, especially the terror with which he reacted when the doctor tried to approach him and to reassure him. Of course he’s having some other problem (becoming a real superhero?) due to the super drug that Lena whipped up for him. Can we hope that Lex is also having some after effects?

I admit I didn’t enjoy Ben Lockwood’s appearances so much. That doesn’t mean that his appearances, or President Baker’s scenes, were not well done. I think that’s because I’m reacting viscerally with negativity to the characters.

Brainy had an off moment when he shouted his intention of being clandestine (by now he should know better) but the rest of his scenes were excellent. It was fun watching him make his way to the restricted area, how he tricked the security systems and then bluffed his way past the guards. But what was better was his hesitation when he was about to do something illegal. He doesn’t know if his action could backfire.

I thought the thread showing how Alex asked James’s sister Kelly for advice about how to work with her boss was also excellent. The advice apparently backfired; Colonel Haley saw straight through Alex and knew she was being manipulated. Nevertheless, at the end, Colonel Haley finally came down on the side of the good guys. I would argue that the manipulation actually worked. Note to everyone: when you’re trying to persuade someone, don’t expect instant conversion; often your efforts need a little time to take effect. Haley’s speech at the end was a little on the nose (Supergirl is not especially subtle) but it was also cathartic.

The scenes between Brainy and Nia Nal were enjoyable and witty. I liked how, while holding a pastry, she said that she was suffering and couldn't eat (obviously able to eat). Still, I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that Nia Nal refused to help by dreaming for him. I suppose her refusal to help (or rather, her delay in helping) was needed for the episode, but it felt unnecessarily petty.

I thought Stryker’s prison, with the corrupt warden, and all the other prisoners, was very well done. We met the warden earlier (and now he’s dead, so we never will again). Lex’s cell was over the top (of course) and so was his manipulation of his half-sister from afar.

The best new character was Steve Lomeli, the man who is in prison for releasing DOD documents. That was a crime (and such things have to be crimes) but he did it out of overall conviction. I liked how he can’t stand Supergirl but has a tremendous amount of respect for Kara Danvers. The best moment for Steve Lomeli was when the prisoners were all dropping to the floor, and Lomeli reached out his hand to hold the hand of another prisoner who was trembling with terror.

And then, my favorite bits of the episode: Supergirl turning back into Kara Danvers for some interactions in the prison, and how she ends going back to Stryker’s to speak with Steve Lomeli, another member of the fourth estate.

Title musings: “Crime and Punishment” is the title of the episode, and it is also the title of a book by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Admittedly it has been decades since I read the book, but the episode doesn’t strike me much like that particular book. However, there are plenty of crimes and plenty of punishments to go around.

Bits and pieces

Ethan Hunt, referenced by Brainy, is the name of the protagonist of the Mission Impossible series.

At the end of the last episode, J’onn J’onzz was seen flying off in his shapeshifter spaceship to go to Mars to bury some sacred objects, so he wasn’t around in this episode. As much as I enjoy David Harewood, I think this was good. Following another storyline on Earth would have been difficult – J’onn hasn’t been that integral to the main plot ever since he left the DEO – and I really didn’t want to try to become invested in a whole bunch of new characters on Mars.

We also didn’t see Lex Luthor or Red Daughter. I’d like to see how Red Daughter is reacting after her attack on the White House.

There’s been no mention for a while now that Supergirl cannot let her dear sister know that she is both Supergirl and Kara.

Of course "Stryker's Island" was created to sound like "Riker's Island."

Quotes

Lena: Justice. What a crock!

Supergirl: If the government wants to stop me from helping people, let them try.

Brainy: Ah, spruck! There is a perfect 50/50 chance that what I am about to do is absolutely wrong.

Kelly: You can’t change people. But you can appeal to who they are.

James: I’m Guardian. And I protect people. … I feel like I shouldn’t need help. I feel like I should be strong enough to get over this. Of course, if you have a magic pill, I’ll take it.

Nia Nal: What does your gut tell you? Brainy: That decisions should be based on facts, and not on intestinal inclinations.

Overall Rating

I feel as if the series is working particularly well now. Part of this is due to the introduction of Lex Luthor, as having a worthy villain is always good. But Lex Luthor, with all of his contraptions, can sometimes be over the top, and although his influence was felt in this episode, he didn’t make an appearance. I think the tension is due to the fact that our main character, Supergirl, has great conflict going on. Her whole thing is saving people, and that is being taken away from her. I love, too, how she is going to fight back – using her arsenal as a reporter. Even though this episode had a few minor flaws, I’m giving it four out of four mighty pens.

Victoria Grossack loves math, Greek mythology, Jane Austen and great storytelling in many forms.

[baskervilleangel]

Nativity, A Lovely Night

“There they stood — against all the great goods, the unholy evils, saints, devils, Fate, and the Gods themselves, they made their own choice and they won. They chose family above all else. They chose love and affection, over hatred and bitterness. With that choice, they also helped those who didn’t have a family or people to love them. Isn’t that really the entire point of life?” — The False Angel of Mercy

The night was cold, long, and exceptionally extreme for the two women. The last few hours of the night were spent getting to know one another in the comfort and safety of Jules’ hideout. In all manner of weird ways Vierabrït continuously changed her hairstyle, varying between quirky and eccentric, she was interested in trying something new.

While Vierabrït played around, Jules took the time to shower and clear her porcelain skin of the blood and dirt that clung to it. They were safe for now and gifted with small pleasantries which alleviated some of the tension of the world, a shower was simply one of those pleasantries. It took her just short of a half hour to tidy herself. When she emerged from the bathroom her appearance was softer, less of a dismayed survivor.

There was a sleek shine to her raven-black hair. It flowed in slight waves and contrasted perfectly with her glowing, ivory reminiscent skin. Her eyes, which were framed perfectly by long lashes, seemed to have been made in Heaven. They were light, silver-green in color, and adorned with the markings that painted her eyes. They moved and locked onto Vierabrït who was continuing her activities in an absent minded daze. The witch could not help but smile — and her smile was full of dynamite.

And while she watched Vierabrït, she started to laugh a hearty laugh at every new hairstyle the Lockwood thought was beautiful or perfect. After the fourth hairstyle, Jules took it upon herself to freshen up the mysterious enigma that had started to call “friend”.

“All right, come here, V.” Jules insisted and motioned for Vierabrït to sit in between her legs.

Vierabrït wasted no time and eagerly complied with her friend. With a balletic skip, Vierabrït moved and sat on the floor right in front of Jules. Unfortunately, she had sat facing Jules and had to be turned around. In a rather delightful way, Vierabrït hummed the tune of “Holy Diver”, it was yet another song on Jules’ mix tape that Vierabrït fell in love with.

“Hey, I think it’d be better if I moved your bangs out of your face. What do you think, V?” Jules questioned.

“Mhm!” Vierabrït looked back and flashed her signature smile, it was apparent that she agreed with the witch.

The witch wasted no time once she obtained the confirmation. She grabbed a tuft of Vierabrït’s silky periwinkle hair and moved it backwards. The light that now shined upon Vierabrït’s face forced her pupils to constrict in a moderate way. The dried dirt and blood that covered her face was now more apparent than ever. It highlighted not just a deceptive savagery, but also her willingness to survive and protect her new friend.

In the midst of her hair styling Vierabrït decided that now may be a good time to read the family bestiary. She rummaged through her satchel for a bit then pulled out her very own bestiary. It had a periwinkle color to it and was adorned with sapphire like gems that sat neatly into the leather like material. Gliding her bloodstained hand across the brittle pages of the book she opened up to a random page and began reading in a quiet whisper. With small patters Vierabrït drummed against the page with her long finger, almost as if she was waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Jules, who had peaked over the girl’s shoulder, observed the pages of the book with great curiosity. The language that was written upon the crumbling pages was entirely foreign, unique in design even. Upon first glance, some of the words and letters were similar to Romanian or Moldavian; with another glance it was similar to Russian or Ukrainian.

“What Language is that?” Jules questioned yet again.

“I… I don’t know,” Vierabrït responded with a hint of sadness in her voice. “It never had a name. For the first few centuries of my life it has been the only language I have ever known.”

Once again, Jules was reminded that Vierabrït had a rather secluded life devoid of contact or any major social interactions outside that of her family, of course. Vierabrït hadn’t even known what Music was until a few hours ago. Nearly immediately, sadness dissipated and was replaced with an intense determination. Vierabrït was filled with this feeling, eagered to close the gap between the two of them.

“Its talking about me if you were curious! Maica wrote it just for me!” Vierabrït erupted in a confident demeanor.

“Its about you? Can you read it out loud? I’ve been wondering what you are…” Jules voice became low, she wanted to understand and learn.

“I ams friend! I can show you what it says too!” Vierabrït exclaimed and pulled off one of the flower petals that were bound to the page by wax. “Since Maica is traveling the otherworld, and the real one, she attached these rose petals to some of the pages of our bestiaries. They’re covered with her blood and her power so that we can hear her read them to us. Don’t worry, friend, she speaks the english. There are lots of nice pictures too!” Vierabrït continued on to say and handed her one of the rose petals.

“So this Maica… who are they?”

“My parent! I haven’t met her, but I am told she is best!”

“You have two mothers? That is pretty cool.” Jules responded, simply enjoying her time learning about Vierabrït.

It took about ten minutes for Jules to finish styling Vierabrït’s hair. Her hair was now swept back and held together by three braids which mingled perfectly with her straight hair. Jules held up a mirror which made Vierabrït smile incredibly wide.

“Thank you!!!” Vierabrït shouted intensely and hugged Jules.

“Its fine, V, really!” Jules spoke trying to separate her face from Vierabrït’s.

Vierabrït had eventually pulled away from the witch and narcissistically stared at her brand new hairstyle. While Vierabrït admired her friend’s handiwork Jules stared intently at the blood stained rose petal that was placed inbetween her two fingers. A violent and malignant energy radiated off of it, much like the feeling that Vierabrït gave off, yet far darker.

Cruelty. Unreasonable sadism. It was a sensation that could only truthfully be described as “evil”. In all honesty, it frightened Jules. She cocked an eyebrow towards Vierabrït and stared from the corner of her painted eyes.

“V,” Jules called out to Vierabrït. The Lockwood’s head snapped to Jules with an exquisite flourish of her periwinkle hair. Round lavender eyes met with Jules’ jade like eyes. “What the hell are you?” Jules continued in a rather grim tone.

Vierabrït quickly shifted her attention to the rose petal then back up to Jules’ eyes. Widely Vierabrït grinned and quickly raised her eyebrows, urging the witch.

“Eat and you will see!” She twirled, once again flourishing her new hair style.

Jules was a woman who had not trusted easily; as such, she was exceptionally hesitant. Especially with this feeling of dread that lingered from both, her new friend, and this bloodstained flower petal. But against that — against all the warning signs and red flags, she felt a sense of trust from Vierabrït. A compulsion to believe and trust her friend, and so she had.

With a sigh, and a quick motion, she ingested the Rose petal. In a single instant, shorter than the blink of an eye, darkness began to fall upon her. It was a temporary blindness that befell her, and with it came a fear that she had never known.

“Three vials of blood, manipulated by self righteous foolishness.” A menacing and feminine lilting voice spoke to Jules. It was an accent that the witch could place, yet it was different from Vierabrït’s. “Seven shillings tossed to the whims of fate. Five beasts born of blood and evil across endless millennia.”

While the voice spoke baleful visages stormed her mind and besieged her sight. She saw three vials of blood that were spilled against the ground. The seven shillings, which were marked by that very same blood, cutting through the air. Then finally, she saw them. Eyes emanating an iridescent glow from the darkness that was just out of her reach. Above those eyes, reaching into the clouds, was a woman dressed in red observing the witch beyond the napalm skies.

All of this faded in the same obscuring darkness that had initially drenched her, and once again her sight was robbed from her. Then, like before, vision returned to her; but it was not her own. She saw a place she had never been and moved about without her say so. This place, this home, was comprised of neglected wooden floors, and filled with glass bottles in odd shapes. Baubles that adorned the walls alongside tapestries and paintings of people she had never known. If she didn’t know better, she would assume them as witches things.

When she had reached the bathroom she realized that she was not in her own body. But someone entirely foreign, much like the dwelling she had been forced to explore. This woman stared at the mirror and back at Jules from the reflection of the mirror.

In attire this woman was highly similar to Jules. She wore a black long-sleeved henley which fit her form perfectly. The sleeves were somewhat long and covered the back of her hands. Jules could even make out the dirtied black Jeans the woman had wore. It wasn’t until the woman spoke that Jules discovered her identity.

“Vierabrït, the gentlest and kindest of my children, I hope you are well, my darling.” The woman crossed her arms and gave a smile without baring her white fangs. “I have a present for you, I’ll put it in your bestiary when I deliver it. I want you and your elder sister to put them on only in the most desperate of situations… I know I can’t be there with you and your mother right now. But, I’m going to answer a few questions; some that may have been plaguing you for quite some time. The first, and most important thing, is that you are what is called a “Tribrid”. Like me, you are part Lycian. Like your mother and I, you are Bloodborne — well, Ţânкомар to be exact. Then finally, when you come of age, you will awaken the third part of you. Maybe that part of you will be a Primera, or maybe a Sabaoth like your mother. Who knows, maybe you’ll even be a Paradigma like me. I want you to know that with your immortal life you can choose to walk the path I treaded upon, or even your mother — or you can make your own. You have so many choices and we’re no longer bound by a twisted fate. I want you to know something else…” She paused for a brief moment, and moved her hand to wipe away the tears that pooled in her eyes.

“I’ll be there soon, I promise you that. And no matter what choice you make — I will always love you. I cannot wait to see the woman you grew up to be.”

Despite the evil Jules has felt from these two, she could not help but feel sad for them. When Vierabrït’s mother, Viola, placed her two fingers upon her lips then the mirror Jules understood then. Vierabrït’s demeanor, her kindness and jubilation, was no act. She had not feigned any of this. In fact, she understood something far more important. The Lockwoods, Vierabrït’s family, were evil by nature, but chose a different path. They chose another way, and that was the most important thing.

The disheartening images dwindled back to the gloom they came from, and the world transitioned back to the one Jules had known — and loathed. Vierabrït hovered over Jules’ face, a bit to close for comfort even. Apparently, Jules had collapsed during her trip into Viola’s memories.

“Oh good! I thought I unalived you!” Vierabrït said cheerfully and lifted Jules off the ground and back onto her.

“I have more questions than answers but I think I understand you more, in some weird magical way.” Jules looked at Vierabrït for a moment, a bit tired from the psychological strain, then she did something incredibly out of character. Without warning, Jules pulled her friend into a hug and held her in a tight embrace.

“Thank you. For being my friend, and saving my life — twice.”

“Its okay, friend! You ams good friend.” Vierabrït wasn’t confused by the sudden change in Jules demeanor. In fact, she hugged the witch back as delicately as she could.

“I could just be tired, but I think I actually understood that.”

Jules yawned a bit and rubbed her eyes before she pulled away from Vierabrït. A moment later, Jules found herself lumbering back to her bass, staggering all the way. It didn’t take long for the witch to find her way back to the couch so she could relax and play her bass. When Jules yawned again five minutes later Vierabrït responded in a rather adorable way.

“You should assault the straw!” Vierabrït’s wide round eyes locked onto Jules’ as she spoke. Just as soon as Jules thought she had a decent understanding of Vierabrït’s vocabulary she quickly found herself confused once again.

“I should what?” Jules asked and glanced up at Vierabrït. The sound that emanated from her bass came to an immediate halt.

“You should assault the straw!” She repeated, believing that Jules hadn’t heard her. In all reality, Jules was asking for clarity instead of the same question. “You know? Sleep. As you mortals often do.” Vierabrït continued. When she had, Jules immediately understood what Vierabrït was trying to say.

“Hay.” Jules responded to correct the young Vierabrït’s vocabulary.

“Oh, hey!” Vierabrït responded excitedly, believing now that Jules was trying to greet her for some odd reason.

“The saying is “Hit the hay” not “Assault the straw”, V.” Jules sighed and chuckled a bit. Spending time with Vierabrït was actually something that she subtly enjoyed.

Before long, and quite unexpected, Jules had fallen asleep, a much needed reprieve from the endless adventure that awaited them just beyond the wooden doors. Vierabrït, who had not needed to sleep, stayed up and listened to Jules’ mixtape.

After an hour or two she began to wonder what sleep was like. She had never done it, but she knew she was capable of it. She had never dreamed, nor had a nightmare. So, she snuggled up next to Jules, who had instinctively embraced the Lockwood, and attempted to fall asleep.

There they laid, bidding farewell to the distorted stars, and waited for the break of dawn with new understanding of one another. For the first time ever, Vierabrït dreamed of something spectacular. A world without monsters, evil nor fear. Only her friend and her family, living their best lives.

[sleepysanders]

144 Days: Chapter 1

Summary: If you were given 144 days to save the world, would you? Logan can’t seem to find his answer to that question. Life has been so rough, he can’t say he wouldn’t mind the world ending. However, his opinion begins to change when a new student enters his classroom.

Warnings: Major character death, Suicide, NSFW implications (nothing explicit, I don’t write that), Swearing, Nightmares/Dreams, Unreality. I will be adding more to this list as the story progresses.

Pairings: Logicality, past Logince, one-sided Prinxiety.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This is a Sanders Sides AU of one of my favorite books at the moment, We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchison! My AU will differ slightly from the plotline of the book, but the basic plot will stay the same! Also, this took me weeks to write, and I honestly gave up towards the end.

Statistically speaking, life is bullshit.

All the evidence proves this. Logan's brother being an asshole, his mother's chain smoking, his shitty flings with Park - everything. And then there's Roman. God, it's been almost a full year, but Logan is still grieving. He still remembers that day as if it happened yesterday.

Virgil had called him late on a Saturday morning. Logan could hear him trying - and failing - to hold back sobs as he frantically explained. "Roman - bedsheets - he's gone - there's no note." He was talking so fast, Logan could hardly understand. But he understood as soon as he heard a knock on his bedroom door and his mother calmly told him that his boyfriend of two years was dead. The one person he cared about more than anyone or anything else had left.

At first he denied it. Roman wouldn't have done such a thing. Roman loved life. Roman was the lead in almost every school production since he got to highschool. He had plans for the future, he wanted to be on Broadway, he was always so upbeat. Logan just...couldn't believe it.

Of course, refusing to believe it wouldn't turn back time. That was impossible, (well, that's a debate for another day. Logan believed in many things most considered impossible.) Roman was gone, and he wasn't coming back, so Logan just needs to move on. He busies himself with studying. Space, marine biology, the history of the English language, anything he can find enough books and articles on. He writes review after review of various books, still closing off as much connection to the outside world as possible.

He's thankful for another distraction- his nightmares. They were confusing at first, always starting off the same. He's asleep (at least, he thinks so,) when he suddenly can't move and shadows seem to close around him. Then he's awake, laying in a bright room and strapped to a table. Odd figures hover over him, experimenting on him, poking and prodding him with strange tools. They started when he was very young, convinced he had been abducted by aliens, and told all of his classmates his stories. That's how he earned his nickname.

"Hey, Space Boy!" Logan jumped at the sudden noise and the crumbled up piece of paper that hit the back of his head. "Got abducted by any aliens recently?"

A couple kids behind him laughed. He sighed. Park Lockwood, his bully-with-benefits, tormented him about this almost every day. It was starting to get old, especially because of how Park would act when other students weren't around. He decided not to reply, just kept working on his essay about how Romeo and Juliet's ending was bullshit but then again, misunderstandings are quite common with Shakespeare.

While Park eventually gave up on bothering Logan after about five minutes, he couldn't ignore the concerned glances from Virgil. He sat next to Logan in most of his classes, but they hadn't talked longer than a few minutes in almost a year now. He was still distancing himself from any reminder of Roman - and that included his best friend. He and Virgil had been friends since grade school and did almost everything together up until recently.

"You know, you should really stand up for yourself. It's hard to watch this for years."

"I've already tried it. It didn't work, and since he gets bored eventually, ignoring it is simply the best option." He sighed, erasing what he was writing so hard he almost ripped his paper. Virgil seemed like he wanted to say something but decided against it, or didn't have time, because at that moment a new student walked in.

The boy was wearing a bright blue polo shirt with a grey cardigan tied around his shoulders and thick-rimmed glasses similar to Logan's. He looked around then looked down at his schedule. "Woops! I think I might be in the wrong class, sorry guys!"

"Well, do you know where your class is? If not, one of my students can show you around." The teacher, Mr. Williams smiled. He nodded, a little enthusiastic and a little confused "Logan! Show this student to his class, please." Mr. Williams must have known that he was dying to get out of this class and away from the other students, especially Virgil. He got up almost too quickly and lead the other boy out of the classroom.

"Alright, you have Ms. Wick this period. She's in room 203. Next up is Mr. Roades, right down the hall in room 210." Logan went over the rest of his schedule as they walked before the conversation drowned into awkward small talk. The boy introduced himself as Patton Russo, and proceeded to ask him many questions about the school. Logan only answered with "yes," "no," or "I'm not the best person to ask," to which Patton asked him not to talk badly about himself. After a few minutes, Patton gave up, and they finally reached their destination. "Lunch is in an hour, by the way." Logan mentioned before turning to leave. As much as he hated having to interact with his classmates, he had soon realized he very much preferred it to having to show Patton his classes. The guy was intimidatingly friendly, and he was exhausted just speaking to him.

"Alright, see ya later, teach!" Patton held up his hand for a high five.

Logan didn't return the high five. "I'm not a teacher, so let's not use that as a nickname."

"Aw, but you're so smart you could be one!" His smile was so bright Logan thought he was going to go blind. He sighed, said goodbye, and walked back to his class.

"Hey, Logan, can I talk to you?"

Logan froze, running over a million possibly theories as to why Mr. Williamss had to speak with him. Anxiously biting his nails, he waited for the rest of the class to leave for the next period before walking up to the teacher's desk.

"Yes, sir?" In his mind, Logan was running through as many reason that Mr. Williams wanted to talk to him. Was it about Virgil, or Park, or Patton, or-

"Logan, you've been slacking off in my class. You're currently at a 68%. I don't know how you behave in other classes, but from what the other teachers tell me, this isn't like you." He seemed genuinely concerned, which surprised Logan. He wasn't exactly used to people caring about him. Besides Roman, He thought, a pang of sadness in his chest.

"I'm alright, Mr. Williams. I will make more of an effort to bring up my grades."

His teacher didn't seem convinced. "You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."

Talking to Mr. Williams about his problems was the very last thing Logan wanted to do. Talking to anyone was the very last thing he wanted to do, honestly. People either thought he was an idiot for having trouble moving on, which he was, or that he's crazy, we which he honestly might be.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

Logan was strapped to a chair. He was sitting in front of a large screen with an video of Earth in front of him. Also in front of him was a button. Strange. His nightmares were usually different than this.

Curious, he pressed it. The Earth stayed the same. Then the video went back to the beginning. Wondering what would happen if he didn't press it, Logan sat and watch. The Earth exploded. He repeated this test multiple times. Each time he didn't press the button, something bad happened. Whenever he did, everything was fine.

Then a date appeared on the screen: 01/29/18. Exactly 144 days from today.

Logan woke up on the bathroom floor. Another dream, he sighed. It was currently 3:36 AM. His brother was usually home by now, and judging by the sound of the TV down the hall, he was. Logan considered his options - on one hand, he didn't want to lay on the bathroom floor all night. It was unsanitary and he hasn't gotten proper sleep in weeks, which he desperately needs if he's going to bring up his grades. On the other, he would have to risk running into his brother if he wanted to get back to his room. He sighed and just sat on the edge of the bathtub. His brother would probably fall asleep in about an hour - he could wait.

[ashleighxx]

Klarolinemashup Day Three

Sunday16th|TropeMashupPrompt|MythicalCreatures+CoffeeshopAU

She was deep into her favorite book, coffee machines and people chattering as background noise as she was consumed by the story yet again, and she never tired of the feeling she got when she submerged herself into a new world, lived a different life from someone else's eyes.

"Your kind are hard to come by." A deep, accented voice brought her out of her reverie.   She glanced up from her book that was sat in front of her next to her latte and saw a handsome man. He had stubble which helped emphasise his jawline a bit, short, curly, brown hair and bright blue eyes. Very handsome indeed. He exuded charm, bravado and power underneath the good looking exterior, her inner demon was itching to come out and play. Can tell how powerful he was, can tell how more powerful he could be too. Her demon smiled in delight. "And yours is fun to play with." "I'm glad you think so, maybe you can help me out with a tiny problem?" He leaned forward into her personal space, his scent of woods and whisky and age travelled to her, she nestled purred in delight. "What kind of problem?" She raised her eyebrow in question, trying to tame herself, rein her claws and teeth that itches to sink into his skin. "One that requires your unusual tactics. Come by place tomorrow," he passed her a business card with and address and number on, "we can have a chat in private if you're interested." And with that he stood up from his chair and walked out of the coffee shop. Glancing at his card she spotted his name. Klaus Mikaelson. His kind was so much fun indeed. Especially a family of Original vampires.

.

Caroline walked up the pathway leading her to a massive mansion. The architecture of the place was simply stunning and was highlighted with the off-white limestone paint. She stood in front of the huge door way, two large marble pillars at either side of her, she knocked the door quietly knowing she would be heard. "Well hello there, darling. What can I do for you?" The young, dark haired, roughing looking man greeted her. A seductive smile graced his face but his eyes were all predatory. A gust of wind drew her attention behind him where Klaus appeared. "Come in, love. Ignore my brother Kol here would you, he knows no manners." Stepping into the house she was awestruck by the beauty of the interior. No matter how long she had lived her life, she still loved seeing the beauty in the world, was still shocked by the wonderful sight of it all. Caroline turned back to see Klaus gazing at her with a pleased smiled, and he should. "So you're the succubus." Kol concluded before his features lit with glee and mischievous. "You have got to do me! Glamour me, put me in a trance!" He practically jumped around like he was a child wanting treats, a dog wanting it's chew toy. Caroline looked at Klaus to see if his brother was insane or dead serious in his request and the hybrid shrugged his shoulders a little, giving her the choice to use her power on him or not. She looked into the younger originals eyes and felt her power prickle beneath the skin, smiling seductively she touched his shoulder as she walked passed, leaving him to sand where he was, stuck until his visions were over. "Follow me."

The hybrid led her into his study slash studio. The large room was split in two, on the left was an easel and paints decorated around a table, canvases strewn across the side wall and sketch book upon sketch book stacked on a side table too. She was surprised that the art studio was as organised as an artist could be. She's seen her fair share of them over the centuries. The right side of the room had floor to ceiling height bookcases, lined up with ancients rolls of parchment and books. A large wooden desk was sat in front of the bookcases and a chair in between them, facing his art studio. In the middle of the room sat two sofas opposite each other and a table in between. Decanters of blood and alcohol inside them. "Please sit." Klaus nudged her further into the room and he walked around her to gather some crystal glasses, sitting on a sofa while he poured the brown liquid into them. "So how did you know what I am? Only a few know my kind exists, never mind actually finding us." Caroline asked him. It was true though, not many people seemed to find her species out, even witches claimed they were myth and that only vampires and werewolves existed. "Let's just say my brother Kol is on good terms with a friend of yours, Lorenzo?" She nodded, thinking of ways she's gonna kill him if this goes wrong. "Well he told us if your location as you were closer to us than him. He also said you wouldn't mind as you'll enjoy playing." Caroline took a deep gulp of her whisky as Klaus leaned back in his chair, confident that she would help. He had a tiny gleam in his eyes, excitement. Hers probably matched his, she did enjoy having fun. "What is it you wish for me to do?" "What is it you can do?" Klaus challenged her, not many that did know of her existence knew the power she held and how she weaved it. It's how they liked it. "Don't you worry about that, what do you need done?" She challenged. "There's a precious stone that I need to retrieve, but I cannot procure an invite to the house. The town of Mystic Falls are aware of vampires and their weaknesses due to a council of founding families. The whole town aren't aware but just enough to get messy when I need to do a bit of light thievery and murder you know?" He paused sipping on his drink before he carried on. "The moonstone I need back is in the mayor's house, somewhere. There is also a teeny glitch called the Salvatore brothers. Both vampires and harbouring my doppelgänger." Caroline was deep in thought planning, seeing what powers would be needed and what not. Humans are easy, they don't really question much. Vampires, though fun to play with, may be able to tell if she put them in a trance depending on how old they are.

“So why don't you just kill them all in a horrific town meeting then take the doppelgänger?”

“My brother, Elijah, made me a deal unfortunately. If I was to spare his deceitful doppelgänger who escaped my last ritual and promised not to kill anyone next time round, then he and his whore would help me by keeping an eye on her family lineage, let me know when a new doppelgänger popped up and stay out of the way.”

A few hours later, a few more drinks later, Caroline and Klaus had finally mapped out a plan and a contingency plan and a further few more ideas if anything should go wrong. But she was confident in getting the job done the first time. Klaus was doubting as he didn't know of her abilities and he also didn't want the ritual to go wrong.

Suddenly the doors barged open, Kol standing in a slight gaze, looking at her in awe with a huge smile on his face. "Oh my God. That. That was amazing! Wow. Nik, you need a go of that.." He thrummed in excitement. "Thank you." And with that he flashed back out.

"What did you make him see? When he was in that trance?" Klaus asked her, still curious of her powers. She didn't mind answering this though as she didn't know herself. "When I put people in that trance like state of mind, it shows the person their desires. It could be money, power, sex. It differs person to person. Once in that trance I could see what they are seeing, use that information to seduce them into plans and schemes or I could choose not to see their desires and still feed on the power they produce from the trance." "So that's one of your powers?" "And that's all you're getting to know of them." She pointed her finger at him sternly. . It only took Caroline an evening to do her tasks, like she told the hybrid, so she waited until the night before the full moon. She made sure he had his witch waiting for the ritual. She was in the Grille for her unsuspected target, son of the mayor, Tyler. He was so into her all evening that she didn't need to seduce him with her powers before he invited her home. Luckily enough for both of them, he passed out in bed from all the alcohol he drank. Waiting until she could hear his parents sleeping she cast her powers over them that made sure they slept, giving her plenty of time to find the moonstone in the location Tyler drunkenly slipped out. The house only had one safe. After Caroline pocketed the moonstone, she made her way over to the Salvatore boarding house. The eldest brother and the school teacher, from the notes and research Klaus told her of, sat by the fire drinking, brooding. From the power she absorbed from the Lockwood's, she felt it prickle under her skin, itching to get out. She focused her power as she let it loose and she knocked the pair out before casting them into a sleep. Just one more house to visit tonight then she had work to do tomorrow to keep them distracted. The Gilbert house, just three humans and a vampire staying in the house. Perfect. It was nearly sunrise so the occupants were already asleep, making her job so much easier. The aunt and brother were the easy targets, but the vampire had to be done first in case he woke up and spotted her. Once the three were under her spell she woke the brunette doppelgänger up, her eyes lit in fear and confusion as Caroline's eyes turn silver whispering seductive commands for her to calm down and follow, into her car and back to her hotel where Klaus waited for her.

He smiled gratefully as he took the moonstone and the Gilbert girl away, leaving her to get some much needed rest and a shower.

The next day she spent all day trapping them inside the grille unknowingly under her spell before she made her way to the woods to watch Klaus' ritual. Watching him slaughter three innocents before he fell to the floor, blood dripping down him, bones cracking and golden eyes. Breathtaking. . Caroline spent three days pacing her hotel room nervously, constantly checking her phone for any signs of him being alive. She wasn't used to feeling this anxious before, this need to know if someone is safe. But she had and she needed to know. So she grabbed her bag and made her way to the front door, surprised at opening it to reveal the hybrid in question, looking very much alive. Looking very, very attractive. Wearing his dark grey henley, black jeans that fitted his rear perfectly, black combat boots and his array of necklaces. Bringing her eyes to his face hoping she wasn't caught practically drooling, she brought herself back down to her mask of boredom and nonchalance. "Finally going to take me up on that trance offer?" He walked in without taking his eyes off her and closed the door after him, "You could try if you want." Frowning, Caroline brought her power from deep within her, felt it being cast over Klaus but it didn't click, didn't sink into his body but instead drew back into her. "It didn't work." "Performance issues." He joked as he walked towards her, making her step back unconsciously. "That's never happened before." She was still staring back into his eyes as she felt the wall hit her back all of a sudden, Klaus standing in front of her, gazing, searching. "Why didn't it work?" She questioned herself more than him, but he answered anyway. "Because I don't want a little fantasy, Caroline. I want the real thing." His voice came out husky as he positioned himself, hitching her right leg over his hip and drawing his hand on her bare thigh as her dress moved. "The real thing?" She gulped in anticipation, blood pumping with arousal. "And what real thing do you want?" She spoke breathlessly. His other hand came up and cradled her face, both thumbs moving in circles, in sync with each other over her soft skin. He tilted her face up towards his more as he closed the gap between them. Both smiling as their eyes flicked to the others lips and back to each other's eyes. "You." He barely managed to get the words out before his mouth finally reached hers, her hands coming up to cling on to the back of his neck, grabbing into his curls as she deepened the kiss.

[douxreviews]

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) Review

(This movie review includes big spoilers.)

2001: A Space Odyssey is a difficult masterpiece. There are so many books, documentaries, articles and interviews about it. I'm not sure what a review by little old me will contribute to the zeitgeist, but here we go.

I'm going to date myself, big time. I was an adolescent when I saw this movie in the theater. And it wasn't a tiny cineplex, because we didn't have those back then; it was one of those huge old theaters with an immense screen. 2001: A Space Odyssey blew my mind. My mother, who liked science fiction even though she was never into it as much I was, was blown away, too. As we were leaving, she said something like, "I have no idea what that movie was about, but I loved it." I said, "Me, too." And then we spent a couple of hours talking about how it looked, how it sounded, what might have happened and what it could possibly mean. This movie made us think, and talk. It was one of my most memorable childhood movie experiences, possibly the best I ever had with my mother.

And yet, while 2001 consistently makes top-ten-of-all-time movie lists, some people think it is monumentally dull. I will readily admit that it is 180 degrees away from films like Star Wars. When 2001 was released, the critics fell into separate camps on complete opposite ends of the spectrum, as in either "It's absolutely brilliant," or "It might be the worst movie ever made." I find it fascinating that, even after all these years, people come away from this movie with such vastly different impressions.

2001: A Space Odyssey was produced and directed by the brilliant and controversial Stanley Kubrick, and it was written by Kubrick in collaboration with one of the great science fiction novelists, Arthur C. Clarke. It took a long time to make this movie, and Kubrick was obsessed with getting every detail absolutely perfect, a monumental feat when you consider that it was pre-CGI and every single object and scene in every frame had to be imagined, considered, designed and created before it was filmed.

I feel like my vocabulary is inadequate when it comes to describing how this movie looks. Every shot is so perfectly framed, the photography so stark and imaginative. The space stations and ships, especially Discovery One, look real, functional, and exquisitely beautiful. I've always wondered if Kubrick deliberately created ships that looked like they had faces and space helmets that resembled animal heads, or if it was a happy accident.

Much of the movie has no dialogue and when it isn't silent, it is accompanied by disturbing choral vocalizations, the stunning and majestic "Also Sprach Zarathustra," or exuberant classical music. I'm pretty sure no one had ever paired classical music with science fiction before 2001. There are other memorable sounds, too: alarms, electronic shrieking, the grunting of the apes, the breathing that is all we hear from Dave while he is trying to shut down Hal.

2001 has three distinct sections, with the third being the longest and most memorable.

I don't have a lot to say about the first section, in which a mysterious black monolith somehow changes our starving ape-like ancestors into tool users. Except that the ape man (he has a character name: Moonwatcher) tossing the bone into the air that turns into a spaceship might be the most brilliant segue in the history of the movies.

Four million years later, humans uncover a black monolith buried on the moon that sends a radio transmission to the orbit of Jupiter. The shuttle slowly docking with the partially constructed space station to the accompaniment of a Strauss waltz is spectacular. So is the look of the interior of the space station which is peppered with familiar corporate names, most of which have survived the sixties. I've always loved how the beauty of technology created by human beings is given as much weight and attention in this movie as the beauty of nature, space, the stars and the planets. I particularly liked the symbolism of a pen, another extremely important human tool, floating in the air like the ship floating in space.

Eighteen months later, the space ship Discovery One with five astronauts on board is nearing Jupiter. Three of the astronauts are in suspended animation, so the action centers on the other two: Dr. David Bowman (Keir Dullea) and Dr. Frank Poole (Gary Lockwood), plus the HAL9000 computer, the artificial intelligence that runs the ship. Dave and Frank both come across as real astronauts, highly trained and even-tempered professionals who stay calm even in life and death situations. Which is what they soon find themselves in as Hal's conflicting instructions cause him to go mad.

Hal is so pleasant and amusing at first with the banter and the chess, although what he is about to do is foreshadowed since Hal's point of view always shows Dave and Frank as distorted. (There is also foreshadowing when Dave and Frank are shown sleeping in their coffin-like beds.) Their extreme isolation is highlighted during the taped interview with the BBC when we learn that Discovery is so far away that it takes seven minutes for a transmission to reach Earth.

The Hal sequence is undeniably the edge-of-your-seat part of the movie, as Dave and Frank slowly realize that their soft spoken, efficient, all-powerful computer is lying to them. Although the constant close-ups of Hal's "eye" are undoubtedly creepy, Hal's voice is so melodious and calm -- an excellent vocal performance by actor Douglas Rain. I remember how shocked I was the first time I saw this movie when Hal eavesdropped on Frank and Dave in the pod by reading their lips. Humans just don't expect the tools they create to turn on them. Does Hal have genuine emotions? Is he just simulating what he was taught? What would be the difference?

After Hal kills Frank, we can see the patterns of light and shadow playing over Dave's face as he nearly succumbs to panic, realizing that he must either expose his naked face to vacuum in order to get back into the ship, or die outside in the pod. I've always loved the disconnect scene where Dave, wearing a mismatched green helmet on top of his red space suit, won't respond to Hal's apologies, questions and suggestions while he carries out the complex actions that will kill Hal. All you can hear of Dave is his breath as Hal degenerates into a baby computer and sings a song ("Daisy") that was taught to him by his creator. Interesting parallel, when you consider what ultimately happens to Dave.

Dave completes the journey alone, and appears to take a pod into the monolith that is orbiting Jupiter. What is Dave seeing during this "trip" in the most bizarre of sixties psychedelic colors? Is he seeing the home world of the beings that created the monolith?

Since the monoliths were deposited in our solar system four million years ago, it seems unlikely that the aliens were still hanging around. I've always assumed that they left their automated monolith "seeds" and moved on. I've also always wondered -- what did the powers that be on Earth think that the astronauts were going to do with that monolith? Go up and knock?

It's also fascinating to conjecture what is happening during the surreal, strangely lit bedroom scene at the end. Dave appears to see older versions of himself, and then he becomes each older version of himself: quite elderly and in a robe eating dinner, visiting what looked like a fully appointed bathroom, in the bed as he breathes his last before turning into a strange space infant floating above the Earth. Did Dave spend the rest of his life in a real place (unlikely) or was it simply a mechanism that took his mind to the end of his life so that he could be reborn?

What does Dave become? Is it the fate of the entire human race, or is it just him?

There is a 1984 sequel to this movie entitled 2010 that doesn't really answer this question. At least it's based on a book also written by Arthur C. Clarke, so there's that.

Bits:

— Even though the five astronauts on the Jupiter mission are all white males, Heywood Floyd runs into several colleagues on the space station, three of whom are women, and obviously some of whom are Russian.

— BBC 12. Loved that.

— I also loved the zero gravity toilet with the very, very long list of instructions on how to use it. Unspoken was how uncomfortable and difficult it would be for the user to absorb and follow all of those instructions when they really had to go.

— Gary Lockwood, who played Frank Poole, was also featured in the second Star Trek pilot. I had a pleasant encounter with him at a Star Trek convention, which I related at the bottom of my review of "Where No Man Has Gone Before."

— Dave: "Open the pod bay doors, Hal." Hal: "I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that." I use "I'm sorry, Dave" a lot in my real life.

— Hal: (trying to talk Dave out of turning him off) "I feel much better now. I really do. Look, Dave, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill and think things over." Laugh out loud.

Every few years, I watch this movie again. It's such a rich and complex motion picture that I inevitably see something I never noticed before. Four out of four pod bay doors, of course.

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.