#lee overalls

[ares857]

internet find

[stone-cold-groove]

Look, dad ! They’re wearing ’em, too!

[queeringclassiclit]

Which adaptation of Sherlock Holmes is the most queer?

*not including House M.D. because it's not really an adaptation, or any overtly queer pastiches like My Dearest Holmes or The Adventure of the Furtive Festivity because that's not really a fair contest

[wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj]

i can’t stop thinking about the dnd bit in chris grace: as scarlett johansson, both the planetouched tiefling beat itself and brennan’s meta part at the end, and how there’s so much depth to that, the experience of making a fantasy character and wanting them to reflect yourself in a world where your people and culture do not actually exist—most of my characters look like me, they have wide noses and brown skin and marks on their faces. why do i need to do that? its a fucking fantasy roleplay game i can make any character who looks like whatever with different features realistic and fantastical i can be an elf with pink eyes or a tiefling with purple skin or a fucking cat person covered in fur but. i don’t.

it’s about that tokenization, and of trying to prove to myself that i’m asian enough. because if i let that slide what does it say about its importance? because my tables are often pretty white. because the default setting is medieval europe. because white characters are often treated as a default in fantasy. because if i don’t look like me, who else will? there’s something that feels SOOOO uneasy inside me as brennan calls out to chris : « you can be chinese-coded ! you can be chinese-coded ! »

[time-slink]

rock lee u are the world 2 me….

[jaeyxns]

I want my existence to be the most special thing to you, a person so special.

- ROMANCE : UNTOLD (Inceptio Ver.)

[oneinathousand]

I recently got the 1995 book Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing and Horror Cinema by Mark A. Miller and decided to put together some of my favorite quotes. I bought the first edition because it was cheaper, but the second edition had some revisions and expansions, what exactly was different I don't know (I'm sure it addressed Lee's big explosion in popularity in the early 2000's among other things), but there's still lots and lots of interesting material in here; plus, to my surprise the copy I got was signed by the author himself back in 1995, so that's pretty cool.

Anyway, here's some quotes for ya:

These first two quotes are Vincent Price talking about Lee and Cushing which I thought were absolutely darling. Here's the one about Lee:

Everybody told me that he was rather stiff and unbending and not very funny. Well, we screamed with laughter from the minute we shook hands until now. We get along just like mad... write each other rude notes and funny letters and telegrams and postcards and, you know, anything we can find that we know will tickle one another. He's one of the few actors in my life that I have stayed in touch with, strangely enough. If you get him on a subject that he likes, he's very warm and vibrant. I think he's got a wonderful sense of humor, but I don't think everybody knows how to get at it. For some reason or other we strike each other as funny, and it's wonderful fun to be with him.

Here's him about Cushing:

He's nothing like Christopher Lee because Peter's a very wiry, little fellow. But Peter is one of the strongest men I ever knew in my life. I had to do several fight scenes with him [in Madhouse]. My God! He can throw you! He doesn't fake it at all. Nobody warned me about this, and I was sort of battered and bruised. He's a very realistic and very serious-minded actor. I like Peter very much, and I hear from him always at Christmas. On our birthdays we send each other the funniest cards we can find too. He's a very gentle, sweet man. I am very, very fond of him.

Cushing was, in fact, not a little man, but of course Price would have seen him as one from his perspective lol... The part about Cushing apparently being incredibly strong is pretty wild considering Price was referring to him during the making of Madhouse, when he had spent the last 2-ish years losing a lot of weight, smoked like a chimney (the book mentions at one point that he could smoke up to 50-60 cigarettes a day before he quit), was a vegetarian, and was in his early 60's. If he was strong enough to toss Price's tall ass around like a rag doll then (which is a very funny mental image), how strong was he during his prime???

Here's a description of the Lee family cheering up Cushing for the holidays during the making of Horror Express:

He faced his first Christmas without Helen and in a country that was not even his own. Luckily he found solace on Christmas Day in the warm family gathering of the Lees in their Madrid hotel. Gitte and Christina had flown over for the holiday, and they invited Peter to spend the day with them. This was the fourteenth film in which they had both acted since The Curse of Frankenstein fifteen years before, and one that offered them many great scenes together. But their best scene together was the one in that Madrid hotel on Christmas in which Peter Cushing received the emotional support he needed so desperately. The next morning Cushing was back at the studio, cheerfully ready for work.

So sweet... For anyone wondering, this book did not mention anything about Lee supposedly comforting Cushing with his presence in case the latter ever had any night terrors while making Horror Express. I'm starting to think that story might be made up! Maybe it was mentioned in the second edition, or maybe it was mentioned in one of the interviews or whatever that Miller used for researching this book. My search for a primary or secondary source continues.

Here's actress Lorna Heilbron about Cushing and Lee during the making of The Creeping Flesh:

Peter Cushing is a brilliant actor I think. I was, of course, playing his daughter, and Peter had quite recently lost his wife Helen and was grieving for her and was very open about this. He related to me as a father and was tremendously caring and supportive, especially as he felt that I resembled Helen, so we had a rather intense relationship where I felt he really "lived" his part in the film. He came the first day on the set with his script covered, literally covered, with notes he had written about what he felt his character would do or be feeling at any particular time. He also knew down to the last detail what props he would require and had obviously chosen his costumes with immense care. Within all this careful forethought he was very flexible so that if an actor gave him something unexpected, he would respond to this and was willing to go with what was happening "now". He was charming, courteous, and clever and was dearly liked and admired by everyone. At that time he was, as I said, feeling very sad and so was clearly very vulnerable. He would take himself on his own to have a bit of a wander and, I suspect, a jolly good cry. I adored him. I didn't get to know Christopher Lee so well, mostly because I didn't actually have many scenes with him and partly because he kept "himself to himself" as we say over here. I remember he had a most wonderful singing voice, of which he was justly proud, and which would go ringing round the corridors of Shepperton. The crew called him "Rabbity Lee" because he loved to talk, which he did very amusingly and at some length. I have often felt he was a much better actor than some of his material. He and Peter seemed close and distant at the same time. They probably didn't have that much in common apart from a very strong symbiotic working relationship.

Rabbity Lee… 🥲

Next is Price, Lee, and Cushing's opinions on House of the Long Shadows, which I feel each perfectly encapsulate their personalities.

Vincent Price spoke bitterly about the film in 1991: "A disaster - because the man, whoever - I can't even remember his name; psychosomatically I've forgotten it - the guy who directed it and the [editor] who cut it... they just cut all the comedy out of it... I hated it. Desi Arnaz, who was very good in it - they just turned it all over to him so that you never had the four people you wanted to see ever doing anything at all. That was that stupid director." When asked in 1992 if he agreed with Price that the film constituted a missed opportunity for the all-star team-up, Christopher Lee quickly responded: "I do, without a doubt. He was absolutely right. It's the old, old story: get it on film, finish it in time and on budget, and if it's in focus, we can sell it." Asked also of his memories of Pete Walker directing him, Lee replied simply, "He didn't." Peter Cushing's only complaint is that he suffered from bronchitis while making the film in a cold, damp, seventeenth-century manor house in Hampshire that had no heat. Because he found working with Lee, Price, and Carradine to be "a joy," Cushing summed up the film as "lovely to do."

Speaking of House of the Long Shadows, I wanted to bring up one particular criticism Mark A. Miller had of the movie to be very ironic if you've been in the fandom for this era of horror whatsoever on Tumblr. Miller absolutely hated the iconic "bitch" line from Price, saying of it:

Instead of the good-natured, funny lines that work so well in horror send-ups like The Raven, A Comedy of Terrors, and Young Frankenstein, in this film we only hear Price's character call Lee's a "bitch" - the embarrassing epitome of the script's nasty, witless spirit. After Price's line, the film seems more like a cruel practical joke on the venerable cast than an amusing parody of their images.

I agree with many of Miller's takes throughout the book, but definitely not all of them, and this is a case of that. That line's the best part of the movie! It's Vincent Price saying "bitch" in cursive, it's so delicious! Did Miller hate fun? I can't ask him because he's dead. What if the line was an ad-lib from Price, huh? If Miller knew how popular that moment is on this website, he'd probably be baffled, lol.

[bebagerie]

Nobody Talk Me. i have finished Unsleeping City I and felt so many feelings

[ares857]

internet finds

If you want this project to continue, you can use the Paypal donation button on the web page of the blog. Any donation is welcome.

[allyallyorange]

SKZ doodle dump!

I had fun picking reference images for these, and I have so many more references saved for later lol

Hope you like these doodles! Who’s your bias? Guess who’s mine!

More doodles coming eventually 💪✨

[shesnake]

Trainspotting (1996) dir. Danny Boyle

Original Blu-ray print (2011) // 4K Remaster by Criterion (2024)

[ylangelegy]

my youth, your hands (han jisung x lee minho).

🎸 pairing: han jisung x lee minho. 🎸 word count: >1,200 🎸 includes: canon compliant -ish, mutual pining, dominATE world tour - seoul, both jisung and minho are whipped. freeform. 🎸 footnotes: the photo is from puppiexpress. i saw this tiktok back in september and ended up writing this fic in one sitting (lol); it's cross-posted on my ao3. i'm finally seeing them live this weekend, so it seems apt to repost this even if it is just for posterity purposes. <3 enjoy!

Minho has seen many beautiful things in his life. Crowds of thousands screaming his name. Famous landmarks from all around the world. His three cats pawing the front door on the rare times that he gets to go home. 

All of those pale in comparison to this. 

Jisung— his dark hair slick with sweat, his smile gummy and bright. His fingers wrapped around a microphone stand. Around the neck of an electric guitar.

Jisung— fellow member, roommate, soulmate. 

Minho doesn’t really ever say the last part out loud, partly because he doesn’t think he has to. It’s a different kind of obvious, the sort that’s written in neon lighting across the wall. Jisung and Minho. Minho and Jisung. However you spun it, however the world tilted on its axis, that was just the way that it was.

Like they’ve rehearsed, Minho comes up from behind Jisung. There’s an easy grin on the older man’s face, the quiet countdown of his own solo stage ringing through his in-ear.

Instinctively, his hand darts out to reach. For what, he’s not exactly sure. Maybe Jisung’s shoulder, or the crook of his elbow.

But, at the last moment, he remembers his place, he thinks of who he is, where they are. And Jisung is already taking a step back, already readying to relinquish the spotlight to him. 

So Minho points, instead, that first night. It’s a wordless acknowledgement. He’s saying, You.

Look at you. 

Jisung gives him a smile, gives him a nod. He matches Minho’s steps for only a couple of seconds. The seconds are too short, in Minho’s honest opinion.

They both have a job to do, though, and so Minho turns back to the expectant crowd, and Jisung gives him space, and the last thing Minho thinks before he has to dance is—

If Jisung asked. If only Jisung asked, Minho would probably give him the world. 

Jisung had noticed. Of course he had.

The two of them were like magnets. Constantly buzzing, clattering. They were drawn to each other in ways that the other members weren’t.

And so when Minho pointed to him, and Jisung smiled so hard that his eyes turned into crescents, the latter knew what his best friend was going for. 

He makes up for it on the second night. 

Jisung knows Minho is coming, this time. Knows the exact beat where the older boy will come sauntering on stage in his blue hoodie and denim jeans.

Jisung turns at that exact moment, his ears still ringing from his own stage. Their eyes briefly meet as the lights go down to transition from one performance to another. 

It’s a testament to their affinity, that they know exactly what the other is trying to say without it having to be said out loud. Minho doesn’t grin. Not quite yet. Instead, he swings his arm out; this time, with enough force to cross the distance between them, enough force to reach into the space of Jisung’s bubble. 

Jisung extends his own arm before clasping Minho’s hand in his own. 

For as long as he could remember, Jisung has always been a fan of… hands. He doesn’t quite know how to admit it without sounding weird. There’s nothing sexual about his fascination. He just likes feeling and seeing all the calluses, the ridges. He likes the things you can learn from a person based on the state of their nails or the form of their fingers.

And, oh, all the things he’s learned from holding Minho’s hand throughout the years.

Minho, whose palm pooled with sweat when he first needed to prove himself. Minho, whose knuckles always cracked during award shows. Minho, who flicked his wrist and jabbed his thumb and linked his pinky with Jisung whenever the latter began to feel overwhelmed.

It’s a quick handshake. One that doesn’t even last a full minute. 

Jisung nods. Minho nods back. 

And then Minho smiles, and Jisung almost forgets his own damn name. 

It’s not quite the reaction Jisung had been aiming for, admittedly. Minho flashes him something close-lipped, something closer to a smirk. He’s already turning away to tear up the stage, so Jisung has to pull himself together— even though all that he really wants to do is keep making Lee Minho smile.

No one could make Minho smile quite like Jisung.

It’s another one of those cardinal truths they share.

A younger, more stubborn version of Minho might’ve hated the fact. Might’ve despised the open secret that he was weak for one other person, someone he probably should be more careful about. 

But the Minho of today is past that. The Minho of today would gladly acquiesce to Jisung’s little stunts and corny jokes if the end result had the latter’s eyes lighting up with boyish triumph. Like every single one of Minho’s grins were a prize to be won. 

You don’t even have to try, Minho sometimes wants to tell Jisung. You don’t have to do all of that. 

He doesn’t say that, though. Because he is still a prideful man, and Jisung’s small but certain happinesses are worth a hundred concessions. 

That third night, Jisung’s hand is already extended before Minho can even come close. Their hands click into place. Magnets. Gravity. Call it whatever you want. 

This time, Minho smiles with teeth, because Jisung pulls out all the stops. He furrows his brows, tries to look serious. Transaction, the set of his jaw seems to say. Not a transition.

Something warm blooms in Minho’s chest. It has nothing to do with the adrenaline and everything to do with the rapper in front of him. 

Minho tamps it down in favor of shaking Jisung’s hand just a little longer, in favor of giving him that grin he loved oh-so much.

Minho always lets Jisung win when it comes to things like these.  

And Jisung is better because of it, Jisung is loved because of it. He’s the man that he is because of Minho. 

It’s a thought that occurs to him on that fourth day. The night where Minho is approaching without preamble, is walking up to him without the slide of a dancer. For a moment, Jisung tunes out the audience and just watches. 

He’s seen Minho, bleary-eyed and shirtless, first thing in the morning. He’s seen Minho glide through practice rooms and hum in front of microphones. He’s seen Minho in a hundred different settings, a thousand different ways. 

Yet Jisung’s heart— the traitor that it is— thumps, thumps, thumps with the knowledge that it’s never going to be enough. 

He wants, he wants so much— 

(If Jisung asked. If only Jisung asked.) 

All he can do, for now, is ignore Minho’s hand completely, and show him just how grateful he is for this. For the stage they get to share, for the smiles that are vouchsafed. 

Jisung folds into a bow. 

Minho’s hand, which had been reaching out for the supposed shake, rests at the short hair of Jisung’s nape instead. Later, Jisung will revisit the shock on his best friend’s face. He will watch the videos capturing Minho’s iridescent smile, the slight slip of his façade at the unexpected ode.

But, in the moment, there’s only one thing Jisung really wants to see.

When he straightens, it’s there.

The unquestionable fondness on Minho’s expression. His laugh that could light up an entire stadium. 

It’s the most beautiful thing Jisung has ever seen in his life.

[allthefoolishdreams]

skz x dc comics -> the teen titans -> lee know as raven

"Don't make me send you to another dimension."

[robbie-lee-zombie]

mini ficlet I got inspired to do ( @fluffymary )

When the gang of smiling critters have a sleepover, you better believe they go big or go home.

Kickin was the first to pass out after the movie, hanging halfway off the couch at the start, but eventually slumped to the floor at an odd angle and still hadn't stirred. Crafty and Bearhug aren't far behind as they both yawn, drifting off on the far left of the couch, holding onto one another. Hoppy, Bubba and Piggy were huddled in their own pile on the other end, looking uncomfortable to anyone else but snoring all the while.

What about our final two?

One of our sweet little friends was having a horrible dream. Horrible enough to leave him panting when he awoke, checking around the living room frantically for any monsters that might still be lurking in the dark. Dogday knew he was being silly, but it still got to him, he just knew something was coming for him! Something waiting to come out and grab him, something to steal him away and no one would ever find him again-

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me. Just keep your eyes on me, okay, pup?"

One, a night owl, someone who sleeps in the day because he guards the night. He protects his family, his friends, while they're vulnerable, so they have nothing to fear. Right now, his closest friend - his partner - had something to fear. Catnap couldn't have that.

"I couldn't run away- it hurt so much, Catnap-"

"Shh, shshh I know sunspot, you don't have to explain. I'm here. You're safe here."

A few beats of silence pass. Then, Catnap got an idea.

"I got it." Catnap lifts Dogday's chin to look him in the eyes more clearly. Smiling, sweetly, he whispers. "You want to hear a lullaby?"

Immediately Dogday's face starts to feel hot and he's pulling on his right ear, twirling and picking at the fur in a nervous fidget. His tail starts thumping behind him. "You- What if- You don't have to, I'll be-" Dogday whines a little. Embarrassed. Excited. Eager.

"Let me try that again."

Dogday's sputtering was immediately halted by Catnap's purring. He could feel it in his touch, in his paws any time he held Dogday's cheeks in his hands, it was a soft rumbling under the skin. It was soothing. "May I sing you a lullaby, sweet pup?"

Dogday willed his tail to stop wagging for a moment to respond seriously. He nodded. "Yes. Please."

Their positions are shifted to have Dogday leaning on Catnap's chest, slouching comfortably in case he were to fall asleep sooner than anticipated, which Cat had already dubbed in his mind would be no time at all. Dogday's tail wags without his permission, but neither of them mention it.

Catnap's claws make quick work of Dogday's ears, scratching at the base. Enough to tickle, enough to squirm and smile so wide Dogday's cheeks start to hurt, but not enough to laugh. Meanwhile, Catnap's tail traces along each of Dogday's toes that are tucked under the blankets. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star~"

Dogday knew what lullaby this was. It's kept between them purely for Dogday's dignity and from dying of embarrassment. Not because they'd tickle the life out of him.

"How I wonder what you are~"

But because of how well it works. Plus, Catnap isn't the first one to go around bragging about his own singing voice as it is, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky~"

"Wahahait!!"

"Dogday, you made me mess up the song, now I'll have to start over..."

"No! Nonononohoho don't stahahart over, please-" "Well, maybe I won't have to start over... If you can tell me where my tail left off?"

"Y-Your tahahail?"

"Yes, giggle pup, I need to know where my tail was on the last verse, so I can pick up where it left off. I can't recall..."

As Catnap whispers aloud, his tail sweeps up and down Dogday's soles. Dogday throws his head side to side, trying his best to keep his giggling to a minimum, but the faster that appendage swipes, the more restless Dogday gets.

"Was it along your soles, those bright suns on your feet? While we said "Up above the world" or was it-" His tail switches to sliding between his toes. "Between your poor little toes, as we said "Like a diamond in the sky"?"

Catnap knows this. Catnap loves this.

Dogday could hardly pay attention as Catnap's tail was sawing between his toes. Before he was even aware of his own actions, Dogday was squeezing one of Catnap's hands in his own, bracing himself on whatever willpower he had to not fight Catnap's attack. The other hand was frantic, pawing at the ground, his own torso in a self hug, hiding his face, he couldn't decide what made it better worse.

"Dihihiamond!! You were on diamohohohond!!!"

"Ah, that's right! Thank you so much, my little tickle pup, I knew I could count on you~"

As much as the lullaby felt like it droned on for hours, it really was helping. It was quiet enough between the two of them that this moment never had to be seen by anyone else, it was a special time that let them hold onto one another, to laugh away the nightmares. Catnap's song was eventually interjected with his red smoke - with Dogday's consent being the agreement to the lullaby in the first place, they established that ages ago.

That's what really knocks Dogday out, but Catnap likes to wait as long as he can to use it, just to savor in Dogday's bright smile and pink face just a little while longer.

"A pretty orange and pink sunrise, just for me alone."

As the sun rises in the windows through the curtains, Catnap finally falls asleep.

[eld-creative]

Glowing spine

[sillyabtmusic]

♡ Keonhee in Oneus MVs ♡