#lord knows id smash a fictional character

[shuugumi]

continuation; pt 1 here

“baby go back to sleep, it’ll go down on its own so leave it alone.” his voice is muffled and strains of tiredness left his mouth. somewhat trying to move your hand away from the twitching shaft that’s resting on his lower stomach.

“but…why would i want to—go back to sleep when he’s already ready for me?” you mutter into your boyfriend's arm, shifting on your side to grab a hold of his enraged penis.

“we shouldn’t be doing this…not at this time. you need sleep, not sex,” he says, taking another attempt to remove your gliding hand that’s moving up and down on cock but was rejected by the hard squeeze you returned to the bulbous head.

“be quiet…i wanna—wanna do this.” urging as you move down in between his thighs, rewarding his sensitive head with kitten licks before sucking on the head like a dumdum lollipop.

“really don’t thin—ah!” he stutters word after word as you start to push more of his length into your mouth, gagging had begun and you moved up and down and up and down, swirling your tongue on his sensitive spot; underneath, right below the head.

“ah fuck baby.” he whines as you take his cock all the way to the base, feeling the ridges of the top if your throat gliding on his cock. giving him the shivers as started to play with his lonesome balls.

“u ike it?” you mumbled into his twitch, seeing his face in the pale moonlight, his lip between his teeth looking down at you with pleasure.

sucking his tips until you popped off it with a pop! sound his near was cancelled. “whyre you holding your moans back?” pouting as you sit on your thighs in-between his. one of your hands still gripping his dick as you slowly pump up and down up and down.

“didn’t mean to baby…y’know it’s just a habit.” he hisses out as you climb on top of him, his dick in line with your soaked core. moving your panties and sleep shorts off to the side you slowly push just his tip in, nothing more before leaning down and roughly kissing the needy man.

“feels…feels so good baby." he wines into your chest, grabbing on the flabby sides of your hips as you slowly start to fasten your pace. "like it?" you whimper out, biting your bottom lip as you grabbed a handful of his hair.

he nods his head in pleasure as you continue riding him, slamming your hips down onto his pelvis. and every time you did, he squeezed your hips. squeezed it tight enough to leave marks the next day. "ah fuck, baby. want you—so badly." he looks up at you before lifting your sleep shirt, connecting his mouth onto one of your tits, and squeezing the left out one. earning a groan from you, you fuck down onto him harder, squeezing his hair once more.

he's a moaning mess at this point. the way you slammed your hips down caused his thighs to start tingling with pain. his moans weren't muffled anymore and he was letting loose. "shhh baby, neighbors gonna hear us." you tease, kissing him as he continued to moan.

"like they don't already." he replies before grabbing one of your ass cheeks and then landing a hard smack onto it. "think am—gonna cum!" whimpering into his neck, your place slows as the fatigue caught up to you.

"stop." he says before spanking you once more. you slowly came to a stop before asking him what happens when in a swift movement, you are now laying on your back and your boyfriend is on top of you, grabbing your chin and leaving little love marks all over your chest. "my turn." his voice is different now, dominant and he wants to be in charge now. he rubs his tip across your cunt and you motion your hips, hoping that it'll slip in. a tch sound left his lips before shaking his head.

"so fucking horny for me huh? only been a few seconds without fucking yourself on me and look how badly that pussy wants me back in her…you want me to fuck you, baby?" you desperately nod, moving your hips for any sort of pressure to provide for your desperate cunny. "beg for it, pervert."

"wan it please…wanna cum all over you. please." you whispered, trailing your hands down his stomach, grazing his happy trail until he swipes your hand away. "gonna give me that?" he asks and you nod once more.

your face returning into an open and amused looked as he pushes the tip into your shrinking hole. he doesn't wait until you are ready and immediately starts giving you the most disgusting thrusts into your cunt. the vibrations of his pelvis hitting your core made your stomach vibrate, your legs on both of his forearms as he continues his pace.

"s'too much—s'fast!" you shout, grabbing onto his bicep as he smiles down at you. your inner thighs started to hurt with your boyfriend's continues rough thrusts. "you can take it, know you can." he's encouraging, running one of his hands down your stomach and resting at your clit, rubbing rough circles on the bundle of nerves, causing you to cry out in over stimulation.

"cummin! i am—cumming!" you shut your eyes forcefully, grabbing once more to his bicep, weaning for stability. with a quick and last thrust, he forces himself deep, planting a big smooch on your cervix. his warm liquid squirted into you and painted your walls a cloudy white color.

he breathes heavily, waiting for his dick to stop twitching before he pulls out, "atta girl." he says before slapping the tip on your leaking pussy. "thank you lovey." your breath is still heavy as you're also catching your breath. he chuckles before brushing his sweaty hair back,

"you're welcome sweet girl."

© harueina 2023  ; do not translate, copy, or plagiarize work!

[gentlemancrow]

jonmartin, pre-romance, #15/28??

I did manage to get BOTH of these in! So we have a combo of "You called me, remember?" and "It's too early for this". Much like the others, the MINUTE I read this prompt an idea popped into my head that I just HAD to go with! This is actually based off a real life incident I had with a friend (They know who they are...) but it fit both Jmart and the prompt PERFECTLY! The names have been changed to fictional characters to protect the innocent. (Hint I was the Martin in this situation) Anyway this was super fun and cute to write and I made myself all squishy a lot. HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

There were precious few reasons why Martin’s mobile should be ringing at exactly 5:47 am on a Tuesday, and precisely none of them were good. Still, the anxiety inducing sound alerting him to something ominously, ambiguously amiss struggled to worm its way through a rather lovely dream of his acceptance speech after being awarded poet laureate. The poem he had prepared for the occasion was marrow-deep and hauntingly beautiful, or at least he remembered it that way until suddenly he was reciting the lyrics to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ instead and sweating profusely as the audience began to murmur in disgust amongst themselves. Waterloo was indeed blaring, but from the ringtone of his phone, not from his lips, and his stomach performed a cold somersault with the force of the wave of anxiety that had begun in his dream and crested up to lap at the base of his barely functional brain. The few synapses he needed for basic motor function and reading comprehension crackled to life as he clumsily batted the buzzing device on his nightstand into his hand and squinted blearily at the name.

It was small. That was an immediate relief. If the care home had been calling about an incident with his mother, either her health or the staff’s as a result of her, it would have been the full moniker of ‘Sunrise Acres Care Home’ ticking across the caller ID. Yet small implied a name, a person, someone he had in his phone and not just a random spam call, and anxiety spiked again as Martin scrubbed at his eyes until ‘Jon’ appeared in white hot letters on the screen. Sleep dissolved from him in an instant and he sat bolt upright in a tangle of covers as he smashed the green answer icon with his thumb and threw the receiver to his ear.

“Hullo?! Jon? R’you okay? What’s happened?” he demanded, voice still slumbery thick and groggy.

“Martin!” Jon’s silky, prim voice, thinned out to a tin can vibrato over airwaves, answered, “Good, you’re awake. I need your help. Urgently.”

Martin was already out of bed by the time ‘need’ reached his ears, yanking on the first pair of jeans he spotted in the laundry heap on the floor and hopping on his free leg to the en suite with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m on it!” he assured him despite having no clue what ‘it’ was, exactly, “I’m coming to you as soon as I can. Where are you? Are you hurt? Should I bring a first aid kit? I don’t think I have a first aid kit… should I buy a first aid kit? There’s a Boots just down the block from my flat, I could-“

“Martin, stop! What the hell are you on about?” Jon’s annoyed tone cut through his panic like a scalpel.

Martin stopped in the doorframe of the bathroom, brows knitted, jeans puddling around the one leg he’d managed to get through and left once again in naught but his boxers as he gripped his phone back into his hand.

“Huh? What are you on about? You said you needed help!” he snapped.

“I do! But not like… not like THAT. What kind of mortal peril do you imagine I would find myself in at a quarter to six in the morning?”

The initial surge of adrenaline fizzling out uselessly in his veins the more Jon talked, Martin sagged against the doorway and pinched his temples as he strained his words through a colander of civility.

“I don’t know, Jon. You called me, remember?”

“Right, right…”

A terse, lowly hissing silence of dead satellite replaced Jon’s voice, twisting Martin’s nerves as acrobatically as he twisted to avoid the point. He kicked off his jeans and stalked grouchily back to bed where he threw himself face down and unmoving.

“So, what is it then? Wi-Fi gone tits up? Forgot how long to steep Darjeeling?” he hissed into his rumpled duvet, a little nastier than he would have liked given the deadly combination of interrupted slumber and primordial biological survival instinct.

“I uh…” Jon’s voice deflated over the speaker, “I have a… problem.”

“Yes, we’ve so very, very clearly established that. What kind of a problem, exactly…?”

“A problem of an upsettingly… Arachnid nature.”

“A spider…?”

“…Yes.”

Martin propped himself up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with genuine and curious concern.

“Wait like a… like a spooky spooky spider? Or just an ordinary kind of spooky spider?” he inquired with as much levity as he could muster, given one of the likely options.

“Stop saying spooky. And the ordinary kind. I think. No, I’m sure of it. It’s merely the sitting on my kitchen wall like it owns the place and staring at me rudely with all eight eyes, judging me for skipping breakfast again, kind,” Jon answered with clinical pointedness.

“O… kay…?” Martin drawled, suppressing a giggle, “So, what’s the problem then?”

“What do I do?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again as he doubted that he had actually heard Jonathan Sims, the irascible, pompous, only capable of truly looking at him down his nose Head Archivist Jonathan Sims, ask him, a lowly assistant, what to do. With a spider. It would have been almost adorable, had he not scared the life out of him initially, but even that knocked it only down a single peg to helplessly charming.

“I-I mean, the normal thing one does when encountering a spider in one’s home? You kind of only have the usual two options? Er well, three, if you count just leaving it be, but I doubt you’re amenable to that one.”

“No, absolutely not, out of the question,” Jon declared swiftly.

“Didn’t think so,” Martin chuckled, rolling onto his back and sagging in relief into the mattress.

“So?” came the impatient invitation to continue.

“So what?”

“So, then what do I do?” Jon repeated brusquely.

“Well, you either kill it or let it go, of course! What else is there to do? Invite it to brunch?”

“I know that! I’m not an idiot!” Jon erupted furiously, “Good lord, Martin! Do you really think I would have called you because I didn’t know the only two options for dealing with an eight-legged criminal invading my home were kill it or let it go? Really?! Did you suppose this was the very first spider I ever encountered in my life? Is that what you thought? Or perhaps I had my own personal valet to attend to all of my insectoid tribulations, hmm? Just call the bug butler, he’ll attend to it straightaway! Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth? Or do you customarily just air out whatever inane notions blow through your ears, no matter how puerile? Christ!”

Martin let the phone drop onto the bed beside him, away from the verbal darts hurled directly into his eardrum and taxing the output matrix of the speaker, as Jon launched into an affronted, mortified tirade, smirking and shaking his head.

“It’s too early for this…” he mused to himself ruefully, rubbing both hands over his face and eyes.

Once the phone stopped humming and glowing white hot with remote rage, Martin scooped it back up and yawned into the receiver.

“You alright there, Jon?” he asked in a gentle tone.

A ragged sigh crackled into a blip of feedback from lips too close on the other end of the phone.

“…Not really?” came Jon’s tremulous reply, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off on you. That was unfair of me. I-I just… I really… really hate spiders.”

Something squeezed in Martin’s chest, something about the confident bass flayed neatly out of Jon’s usually assertively solid mannerisms, leaving it abnormally thin and rickety. He sat up on the bed, cradling the phone much more gently to his cheek.

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he assured him, “If anybody sympathizes about being afraid, you definitely called the right person. Need me to stay on the line with you while you whack it? A good heavy book will probably do the trick, or if you need speed and agility a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine might be better?”

“No! I wasn’t calling because I needed advice on how to murder the damn thing! I’m quite capable of doing that on my own. Frankly, I’ve taken rather a vested interest in honing my spider termination methodology over the years. I called you because… well you were going on about how you thought they were…” Jon trailed off in a series of garbled sounds of disgust, “Cute… of all things.”

Martin grinned and had to put the phone on his bare chest a moment, as if Jon might somehow perceive his giddy glee through the receiver.

“To be fair I’m a little odd that way. Most people feel much the same as you do about them,” he commented as he picked it back up.

“True, but that’s not even the whole of it!” Jon went on exasperatedly, “I also overheard you talking… must have been to Tim or Sasha but… you were explaining about how helpful they are to the ecosystem and what a vital role they play in that natural order of things, and how we always see images of them eating butterflies and beautiful things that make them look sinister, but how really they mostly control pests and the like… how you thought they got kind of a bad rap?”

“Wow I uh… I can’t believe you remembered all that,” Martin muttered, freckled cheeks dusting a light pink, “But what does that have to do with your unwanted houseguest in particular?”

“It was the last part, mainly. That’s what got me. The part about fear. That they’re afraid, too… You said there had been studies that showed a clear fear response in spiders… to us. They’re afraid of us, demonstrably more so than we are of them…”

One word of all of those slipped between Martin’s ribs and into his heart. Too. They were afraid, too. His thumb stroked and consoled the edge of his phone unconsciously as Jon blustered on, unbothered by his own unconscious admission.

“And now I can’t do it! Now I have to set this bloody spider free because you think it’s cute and want to make friends with it, and I can’t make it an innocent victim of my fear and I have no idea how!”

Martin couldn’t help but smile, imagining how Jon must be in his flat on the other end, scrunched in a corner all hunched up shoulders and furrowed brow with hackles bristling, squaring off with a creature who was possessed of no knowledge of the fear she symbolized, or the grace to understand the iconographical divorce to her salvation. Only Jon, quivering and still bed-rumpled and frazzled, could understand the magnitude of cupping that fear in the palm of his hand while reaching out to him with the other. And now Martin understood it, too.

“Hey alright, I’ve got you. Steady on Jon, we’re gonna get through this together. I’ll talk you through the steps, you just follow what I say, okay?” he instructed in his best 999 operator performance.

A beat of silence ensued, followed by a much more robust and emboldened, “Okay.”

“So, what you want to do first is get a glass.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah, like a water glass. And a stiff piece of paper or cardboard or something. If you’ve got a bit of post lying about, flyers and coupons and the like, those usually work well.”

There was a period of distant shuffling, clattering, and indecipherable muttering as Jon gathered his weapons, then sucked in an audible breath through his teeth.

“Alright I’ve got them, now what?” he asked, sounding a bit winded.

“Now you very carefully put the glass over the spider, then slide the paper under the glass so you trap it inside. Then you can take it out without touching it or worrying about it scuttling off on you and set it free wherever you think it’ll be happy!” Martin answered sweetly.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do that,” Jon chanted for steadiness, “I’m putting the phone down so I don’t louse it up, but d-don’t hang up, stay on with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I promise. You’re okay.”

“O-Okay… Okay… Okay…!”

Martin listened as Jon’s voice grew distant, but somehow stronger, more like a war cry, with the soft pad of socked feet on tile, then a short stretch of silence, and then a chorus of oaths and yelping, rising to the crescendo of a door being messily flung open, shut, then opened and shut again. A drumbeat of returning feet rolled mutely close and melded into the scratchy rustle of the phone being picked back up.

“I’m back,” Jon announced.

“Is it done?”

“The deed is done… your little friend is enjoying some lovely pink dahlias out front as we speak.”

“I’m pleased for her! And… for you, too,” Martin said, voice melting into lilting tenderness, “I’m honestly really proud of you, I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I… Ah… No, it wasn’t. Thank you, Martin,” came the sheepishly measured rejoinder.

“You’re very welcome.”

Martin smiled privately to himself, and ran a loving thumb down the edge of his phone once more.

“So then may I rightly assume I have permission to come in an hour or so late today so I can go back to sleep?” he continued, already knowing the answer as he flopped back down on his pillows and rolled up into the covers.

He was relieved to hear a husky chuckle rumble through the phone.

“Yes, yes. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

“Brilliant, see you in a bit then? And for lunch?” he added hopefully.

The brief silence as Jon calculated his response hung thick and palpable in the digital airwaves.

“Lunch sounds good,” he replied at length, “See you then.”

“G-Great! Great! See you!”

Their phones clicked mutually off without the awkward jumble of sign-offs, pleasantries, and accidentally stumbling over each other’s words. Martin thought glimmeringly of the spider hunting free in plush pink petals, none the wiser, and of Jon, with new and irrefutable proof that not everything ugly or quietly cunning in the world lurked behind to cast its shadow over him. A spider could be just a spider, and Martin back asleep with both hands still clutching his phone to his chest, dreaming of singing Waterloo again, but this time to a rapt audience and thunderous applause.

[so-honey-sing]

i was tagged by @darnitdraco

Nickname: technically daisy is my nickname

Pronouns: she/they

Star sign: leo

Height: 5′2. i am a short king fight me

Time currently: 6:31 pm

Birthday: July 31st

Favorite groups/bands: so much little mix and chloe x halle has been listened to lately, i love them so much

Favorite solo artist: hmm hozier probably or lorde

Song stuck in my head: recently it has been rotating between nobody by mitski, by myself by FIDLAR, tipsy by chloe x hall, and montero (call me by your name) by lil nas x. i never have just one they rotate until im losing my mind

Last movie you watched: just finished watching pride and prejudice (2005) for the thousandth time

Last show you binged: my sister and i are rewatching castle, or also fantasy high counts bc ive been bingewatching that

When you created your blog: 2017 for this one, 2011 for my first ever tumblr i think

Last thing i googled: nerdy fabric. im trying to find a fabric for a dice bag bc imma make a dice bag

Other blogs: this is my only one

Why I chose my url: bc i love my lord and savior hozier and this song means so much to me but to-noise-making was taken i think. it used to be sapphic-vilde-lien but i wanted to distance from skam a little

Do you get asks: rarely but occasionally ppl do when i reblog an ask game

How many people you are following: im following 693 blogs

How many followers: 223 followers

Average hours of sleep: it depends tbh. but mostly i do manage at least a solid 7 hours if i dont wake up during the night

Lucky number: idk if i do

Instruments: piano, ukulele, guitar. i wanna play drums and bass too tho

Currently wearing: a daisy print shirt dress from h&m (its in the super cute to all the boys collection if ya want it)

Dream job: i wanna one day work as a school librarian, but i wanna teach before then (just need to find any job)

Dream trip: i honestly dont know. just to go everywhere

Favorite food: this is the hardest question ever, but maybe chocolate of just any type. or savory i guess i love greggs sausage rolls so much ive eaten so many since moving

Favorite song: to noise making by hozier is one of them, or i wanna get better by bleachers bc i like screaming it, idk anything by any of the previously listed artists bc it depends on my mood

Top 3 fictional worlds to live in: julie and the phantoms bc id love a world where they are a band doing shows and also theres no covid in jatp, the world of fantasy high seems fucking dope and i would love to be friends with all of the characters, and the mcu i guess i mean id love for wanda to accidentally kidnap me

im gonna tag @smash-ash26, @sunshine-wlw, and anyone else who wants to do it bc i struggle with knowing who to tag

[ayearofpike]

The Last Vampire 3: Red Dice

Pocket Books, 1995 193 pages, 17 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-87268-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Las 1995 OCLC: 32331239 Released March 31, 1995 (per B&N)

Sita has just ended the reign of terror of a horrible sociopathic self-made vampire, but his killing spree did not escape the notice of the military. It seems they already know who and what she is, as well as her unwilling accomplice turned against his will to save his life. When he’s captured, she resolves to save him before the military can do horrible things with his blood. This mission is all the more urgent when she realizes that the scientist leading the research efforts is an old friend. Like, a REALLY old friend.

It was about here when I realized that Pike didn’t actually have a single plotted story for Sita, that he was just writing her adventures as they came to him. I might be misremembering this, but I feel like we’d been led to understand that The Last Vampire was going to be a trilogy, like Remember Me and his favorite title-drop Lord of the Rings. (I have not been keeping track of LotR references, but there’s one in almost every book. Reread @mildhorror‘s recaps if you don’t believe me.) Getting hit with another “to be continued” was sort of a gut punch.

But beyond that, the way it puts an old character in a new situation made me aware that this was becoming a serial rather than one story. This book doesn’t really do anything new to tie up loose ends. That door was mostly closed in the previous one, when she dispatched the original vampire. But as soon as she turned a dude, it created new loose ends that Sita now has to shear off before the story closes up. It’s a perfectly fine self-contained story, if a lot more actiony and cartoon-violent than most of Pike’s work, but it’s not exactly clear how it belongs to the previous storyline (or whether it even does).

Let’s see if I can find or assume some context for how this book ended up getting constructed.

In 1995, the public at large had just been exposed to Quentin Tarantino’s stylized violence, with Pulp Fiction coming off a controversial Oscar loss and becoming a sleeper hit. Seeing how this was received by the teens who were ostensibly Pike’s audience, it makes sense that he would have wanted to incorporate some gory battle scenes. Especially as Interview With the Vampire had also just come out — I have no doubt Pike wanted to differentiate his cool-young-adult vampire from Tom Cruise’s brooding Gothic.

Spooksville would start in October of this year. I’ve mentioned this series before, but its importance to Sita’s story is that it tells semi-related juvenile horror tales linked to a handful of main characters living in a town where this kind of stuff happens. That is to say: the main kids are the only real common link between the events. I expect that he’d already started writing the series at this point, and that the structure affected how he told The Last Vampire stories (and probably in turn his love for Sita helped him define the structure of Spooksville; after all, Goosebumps didn’t have the same protagonist in every book.)

In any case, it’s both drastically different from the suspense thrillers and mysteries that Pike’s mostly written to date, and game-changing in terms of what we would now expect about Sita stories. I think I already made this analogy: The Last Vampire is Pike’s Final Fantasy, an inspired tale about the end of an era that would seize unexpected popularity and spawn sequels unto eternity.

So let’s try to blaze through the recap, because there’s not a whole bunch of plot. Sita wakes up the day after her battle with New Vampire with a tube still stretching between her and FBI Dude. She realizes she’s been out for nearly 24 hours because it was midnight when the fight started and now it’s still dark but her watch says it’s just before twelve. But also she hears police cars, and knows that they need to escape before they’re asked a lot of questions. (I have one: if they knew what she was, which they probably did, why wouldn’t they come at NOON?) Sita prefers to keep a low profile, because she knows that if someone suspects her supernatural abilities, she’s going to get tested and dissected and someone is going to try to make more (like the coroner’s assistant already did). She doesn’t need to be responsible for that.

But since she’s dealing with a baby vampire who thinks he can use the government bureaucracy to his advantage, they don’t get out. Instead, they’re thrown into an armored van with five armed guards (three in back with them, two in the front) and a driver behind bulletproof glass. This within a caravan of armored vehicles and under surveillance from a helicopter. Of course Sita has escaped from worse situations. She’s handcuffed and shackled, but her eyes are free, and that’s what she uses to hypnotize the guards into pointing their weapons away long enough to break the ankle restraints and kick two of them dead. The third she kills just by telling him to die, which is when she realizes that Original Vampire’s blood is starting to give her new and stronger powers. Because FBI Dude is squeamish, she knocks out the other two guards and then learns from the driver that they’re not going to jail, but to a high-security government facility.

This is where the book turns into an action movie. Sita has the driver crank a turn into a narrow alley and then floor it. They makes it across two streets before smashing into a fruit truck, which gives her enough cover to jump out of the van and start shooting. This clears out a police car from ... unidentified somewhere for them to steal, and they lead the chase into the basement parking garage of a tall building, where they hop an elevator to the top floor. Then Sita breaks a window and jumps across the street to the roof of another building, and roof-hops along that side of the street to one with a helicopter pad on the roof. She steals one and comes back for FBI Dude, and they take off into the desert. So much for that low profile.

The police (or government agents, or whoever it is) pursue them but don’t try to catch up or engage. We learn why when, as they cross over southern Nevada, they’re set upon by two military combat helicopters. More questions: why not a fighter jet? Nellis is right there, and a jet is faster and more heavily armed than a chopper. But anyway, they cripple Sita’s chopper, forcing FBI Dude to bail into Lake Mead, and before she can crash it and escape herself they blow it up with a missile. When she wakes up she’s pinned underwater by the helicopter’s wreckage, but her unconscious mind has had the presence to not let her drown. She surfaces in the middle of the lake to see what’s up, and sure enough they’ve caught FBI Dude again and are throwing him in another armored van. Frickin’ baby vampires can’t do anything.

She steals a truck from a nearby campsite and follows the new military caravan out to some secure facility in the middle of the desert. She watches FBI Dude get trucked out and displayed to a uniformed general, and it’s confirmed that yes, the military knows what they are and yes, they were trying to take them alive. FBI Dude gets shunted into one of the buildings, and Sita takes special note of the scientist that the general talks to afterward. Just one scientist, yes. He leaves shortly afterward, and she goes to follow him, but realizes something weird as she gets in her truck to follow him.

She’s glowing.

That’s right, all y’all that were pissed about Edward Cullen! Pike did it first! Granted, this is in the moonlight and not the sun, but STILL.

She decides to worry about it later and follows the scientist to a casino, where he loses too much money and drinks too much, then to his house just before sunrise. If she’s going to use this dude to get close and figure out how to save her buddy, she needs to redo her identity again. So she gets her secretive business manager or whatever in New York to set her up with new ID, new credit cards, new hair, new clothes, the whole shebang. Yeah — from here until the end of the book we’re supposed to imagine her as a redhead, which is hard to do because we’ve already got two books of blonde Alisa Perne.

When the scientist goes to work, she follows him to see where he goes in, and then breaks into his house and sees a strange model. It looks like DNA, but it has twelve strands instead of two. She recognizes it immediately — it’s the same as a model made by an alchemist she knew seven hundred years ago in Italy during the Catholic Inquisition, a monk who she took as a lover, to whom she revealed the secrets of her life and her history when he watched her heal a kid’s broken spine. So if this guy has a similar model, they must have another vampire and have already been researching, which means Sita has more to save and/or destroy.

She goes back out to the military compound to try to plan an attack, and the glowing skin makes her curious, so she takes off all her clothes and watches her body light up and start to become transparent and feel lighter. She assumes this is another unexplainable power conveyed by Original Vampire’s blood, but to what end? She doesn’t have time to figure it out right now; there’s a scientist to seduce! They gamble for a while, then Sita buys him dinner and they go back to his house, where he tells her just enough about his research to make her feel both sorry for him and further set in her need to rescue FBI Dude ASAP.

While everyone’s asleep, Sita finishes the woeful tale of the alchemist. It seems that he drew some of her blood and used it to heal incurable illnesses in combination with crystals and moonlight. But then he went too far and tried to use it on someone healthy — the boy from before, in fact, with full midday sun streaming through. This ended up creating a monster ruled by fear, and Sita had to kill him, and the inquisitors took the alchemist and she never saw him again.

This wouldn’t be a Last Vampire book without two things: drinking blood and Seymour. She gets the first from a hapless high roller, first by beating him at the card table, then insulting him, then inviting him to what appears to be a desert gangbang, then scaring off his bodyguards and mercilessly drinking her fill. Seymour comes in because she’s not sure what’s coming next with the scientist and the military and the moon-glow, so she calls him to get some ideas and assistance. He says that the only way to be sure they don’t keep vampire blood is to blow up the entire base with the nuclear bombs they probably have on site, this being a secret military facility in Nevada and all.

So now she’s got a plan, and she needs to figure out how to carry it out. When the scientists opens up about his concerns about their test subject and what the scary general wants to do with his blood, Sita tells him everything. Like, literally everything: what her name is, that she’s a vampire, that she’s five thousand years old, that she was turned by the original vampire who she just killed this week, that she knew Krishna, the whole nine yards. In return, he tells her where they’re keeping FBI Dude and the other vampire they’ve had for a month. Her plan is to sneak into the compound in the scientist’s trunk, pose as a tech on loan from the Pentagon, and somehow break out the two vampires.

It all goes according to plan, except there’s only one vampire in the cell. At least until Sita opens the door and goes to rescue FBI Dude, at which point the door slams shut and the scientist talks to her in Italian. Yep! The other vampire he had was her, way back in the thirteenth century! He used her blood on himself, although imperfectly, so in the last seven centuries he’s aged about twenty years. And now he’s got her right where he wants her, so he can keep doing his experiments and improving humanity through vampirism.

The general doesn’t care about any of that shit — he just wants to be stronger than anyone else. This is his weakness, knowing Sita’s power and being afraid of it until he gets it for himself. So she manipulates the guards into panic (more powers she didn’t have before, being able to hypnotize someone without even seeing them) and then breaks all the lights in the cell and starts pounding on the door. So they amass a whole fighting force and open the door, but of course Sita has used her magical vampire powers to ... hide behind it. She has to kill a guard slowly and messily to keep up the fear paralysis, and then she mows most of the rest of them down with a machine gun. All the killing is starting to upset her, or so she says, maybe because of Squeamish FBI Dude, because it doesn’t stop her from planning to nuke the joint.

The general is already upstairs, trying to escape, so Sita JUMPS THROUGH THE CEILING and shoots him in the leg so he can’t go anywhere. Then she gets him to take her to the weapons stockpile and arm a nuclear bomb with a timer, supposedly long enough for everyone to get away from the blast. She has to fry his brain with her hypnosis to get him to do it, but now Science Alchemist is in command and he’s got orders from the president to not let her get away under any circumstances. (Like he might have otherwise, right?) The nuke’s ticking down, and they’re in a standoff, but she finally convinces him to let the rest of the troops get out and away, so now it’s just Sita and FBI Dude and Fried General and Science Alchemist, waiting for the bomb to go off.

And Sita starts glowing again.

This time, she lights up all the way, becoming light itself, and floats off the ground and away in the wind, saying her goodbyes to the old monk who has stolen her blood and the new friend who she turned against his will and the military leader who she has effectively lobotomized. By the time the nuke blows, she’s long gone. 

The next thing we see is Science Alchemist’s basement. No, Pike doesn’t explain how Sita reassembled her body or whatever after floating away as a being of light. No, he doesn’t spend any time on what it means or how she should use it. Yes, it would have been a perfect time to close with an epilogue about how she’s come back to Krishna and her life is complete, along the lines of the dreams she has throughout these books. But instead, she’s in a basement in Las Vegas, where there’s a complicated array of crystals and mirrors, and she’s going to turn human with Seymour’s help (and blood). So she falls asleep doing it, and when she wakes up, someone is pounding on the door insisting she let him in. And that’s it!

So, I have to say it, and you should imagine the clapping emoji between each of the words in the following sentence: THERE WAS NO PURPOSE BEHIND SITA TURNING FBI DUDE EXCEPT TO KEEP THE AUDIENCE HANGING. Seriously, his name should have been Plot Devicerson. He gave us a springboard into the third book, he gave Sita a reason to act throughout it, and now he’s fuckin’ dead. He’s not even a tie to her life before, any more than a divorce lawyer is a tie to a marriage. The whole book could have conceivably done without him, although it would have admittedly taken a little more thought to get her out to the military installation in the first place.

You know, I wish Pike would have called a spade a spade with this series. If it had been a stand-alone serial novel set called The Last Vampire, I would have been totally fine. The stories themselves and Sita as a character I don’t necessarily have a problem with. But they DO NOT FIT TOGETHER. And by now it’s too late to retcon this into another Baby-Sitters Club or Nancy Drew type of series, so he’s stuck attemping to link one unique narrative to another.

It’s gonna be another year before we see Sita again, so I have to deduce that Pike just couldn’t bring himself to kill her off even though he didn’t know exactly what she would be doing next. And it’s OK to keep that door open — if you just admit you’re doing a serial rather than a continuance. In retrospect, I think that’s what annoyed me so much about these books, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess we have to wait and see if Pike can save this series as a continued story, sometime in the next ... six books GODDAMMIT.

[weirdssbfanfics]

Reading: Subpar Smush Broas Mishan Forum God 2: The REEL Sekwel! LAUREN U R DUM (Chapter Seven)

... We’re back. Almost three years later, we have a new reading ready of Despair Smash’s sequel.

To be completely fair, I was asleep the whole time.

Summary: Aftar escap frum Lauren and Katey and Mattel Fase Sara entars a jost.

... I’ve been gone for so long I forgot how to read this.

TW for rape mention, animal death.

Now, a word on the author. We here at WSSBF are well aware that “Sara” is a troll, and this is supposed to make fun of conservatives and Christians. However, we will continue this as if this was serious. Why?

Because it’s more fun, that’s why. Come on, we’ve been away for two and a half years, please let us have this one.

Also, we’ve been away for so long, that we don’t remember a ton of the characters... So that’ll be fun.

Notes: I c Obema is stil payen libruls 2 insalt my storey. Wuts wors is taht alota tham r foreners so Epona isant evan crating Amurican jibs by doen this (nut taht Obaba lieks maekin Amerken joebs becuz he gets rad of them with his hi texas on teh job craters liek my dad and also wtih job-killen regalatons).

... This was funnier before the 2016 election actually. I mean, I’m a fictional character so what do I know, but I do use the internet a lot. Farce is becoming reality and I don’t like it.

So aneyway I wantad my mom 2 let me stay hoem agen so i cold watch moar gam of throns (off coarse I didant tel her im watchen that becuz my parants dont want me 2 wach that), butt she mad me goto skool. My mom iz so meen! Butt aneyway this tim i wuz watchen and teh gay guy who wantad 2 be keen is ded now. He wuz kill by his brothar Stains and a red-hared ladey. I remamber heerin a lon tim ago that teh vershan of Christenaty they hav in Briten is caled teh Chirch off Inglend. I gess in teh chirch off Engold tehy cal God "Rylor" becuz thats wut the red-hared ladey keeped callen him. And than teh gay guys brothar tred 2 be keen and I wantad him 2 win becuz he kild the gay guy and wuz a Christen (even if he wuz teh Britash vershun of Christen witches a litol weerd) butt than he lose a big batol at teh and of sesan 2. Butt hes stil aliv so maybee he can be keen latur. Thats ho far i am rite now.

I’m gonna be completely honest with you, I neither know about nor care about Game of Thrones, so that entire paragraph would be gibberish even without the spelling errors.

Im getin board focasin on pepol otter than me in this storey nao so Im goen bak 2 me and hopfully i no enuff abot Briten now (and ill still wach the rest of Gaem off Throns so my naxt chaptars in Briten wil be evan moor akurat)

Oh, I forgot she thinks Britain is like Game of Thrones. I wonder if she thinks Lord of the Rings is a historical drama, too.

And with that, let’s begin.

CHAP 7: SARA ENTARS A JOST

Aftar I runned awey frum Lauren and Kayti and Motel Fave I fond I wuz lost in Briten. I sneeked thro a feald were pheasants wer picken craps becuz tehy wer 2 lazey 2 be nobels. 

You got that wrong!

... Let me have this one, I haven’t done this in literal years.

Anyways, the history behind why nobles are nobles is complicated to say the least, but it certainly was not because they were lazy. In fact, these guys probably worked harder than Sara ever has in her life. So... yeah.

You can tell I haven’t done this in a while. 

Sumwher in the feld I gotted turd arond and startad walken bak teh way i cum butt i didant no that until i wuz bak in Keens Landen, teh crapital of Briten. Wen I gotted ther i sawed a sine taht sed "Bluddy jost 2day 2 win a bluddy trip 2 Harey Potars skool u wankars." I desided ifi entared the jost and winned Id get 2 go2 Harey Potars skool and kill him so he coldnt teech Lauren moar majek to tune me in2 a lesban. Butt than i sawed the rools and onely nites cold entar the jost and gurls coldnt bee nites. "Ono!" I sed 2 miself.

So I was curious about this, so I Googled it, and apparently in the Middle Ages, there is some historical proof that women could be knights. Now, not sure if a 13 year old could be a knight... and wouldn’t Sara want a guy to fight for her? In her eyes, women who dress up as guys are “lesbans”, after all, so using her “logic”, wouldn’t she become the very thing she hates.

She who fights monsters... I forgot.

"Nead sum halp?" I hurd a Britash guy sed. I turnd arond and sawed it wuz Stanos frum Gaem of Throns!

I wonder how many Infinity Stones he has...

"Hi Stanass how did u no i wuz hear" I sed. "Teh red-hared ladey can see the futur by luken in fiar" Stains sed. Tahts on of the powars of teh Chirch of Eenland. I wondar if thats alos how Sholk can c tha futur. "So u no I want 2 entar the jost" I sed. "Ya and I brot sum armoire so noone wil no ur a gurl. And alos i brotted a hoarse becuz u well ned on of thos in teh jost" sed Santos. So Stinass gived me teh stuf and leev. I putted on teh armar and gotted on tha hoarse. I rided 2 wer the jost wuz. "'ello guvnuh this is were teh bluddy jost is" sed teh persan at teh gaet "wut iz ur bluddy naem." I new I had 2 cum up with a Britash naem and it had 2 bee a guy naem or eels they wodant let me in the jost. "My naem is Sur Jaems of Hose Bond" I sed.

I would’ve gone with Sir Alex of House Rider.

"That is a very bluddy Britash naem butt ur vois dosant sond Britash" sed tha gaet persan. I new I had 2 do moor 2 prov I wuz Britash. "Im vary bluddy Britash u wankar!" I sed. "Ok i gess u r bluddy Britash" sed gaet persan. 

And they didn’t notice your presumably high pitched voice how, exactly?

So I rided my hoarse in2 teh jost plase. I gotted a speer and startad riden my hoarse at a nite who wuz on his hoarse with a speer 2. I nevar wuz in a jost b4 so i wuz afeared that teh nite wuz betar then me. So i put awey teh speer and goted ot my gun. The nite wuz weerin amour so teh ballots coldnt hurt him so I shat his hoarse and the hoarse dyed and the nite felled of. I wan teh furst jost. No1 in teh awdians new wut my gun wuz so they didant no I cheeted and I gotted 2 go2 teh naxt rond. In teh next rond i wuz agenst anotter nite and i shat his hoarse 2 win 2. Than I did teh saem 4 a few moar ronds until teh final jost of teh tornymant. I gotted reedy to rid agenst my oponant butt wen I tred 2 shat his hoarse I wuz outa ballets!!! The last nite hitted me with his speer and i felled of my hoarse and lose teh jost (c Im not a marey su ifi lose sum tims).

Okay, I didn’t want to do this more than once, but I guess I have to.

You got that wrong!

First off, this blatantly contradicts the first story, where she said that the British military had muskets, which is, in fact, a type of gun! Secondly, jousting was a game of sport, not a game of murder. And third of all, even if you do lose, you are what people would consider a Mary Sue, because when you do get in trouble after losing, it gets resolved in three paragraphs or less!

Wen I felled of my hoarse my hellmat felled of my hed and everone sawed I wuz a gurl. Tehn Lauren stud up becuz she wuz in teh awdians. "Hey I no who taht is! Shes Sara and I wanna rap her!" Lauren sed.

Ah, I was wondering when we’d get that good old fashioned Rap. Also, everyone in the audience is an idiot.

She jump ot of awdians and run tords me butt I get bak on my hoarse and rid awey becuz I coldnt run fats in my armoire. Butthan Lauren taked the hoarse frum anotter nite and startad riden aftar me. I wuz shur i wold be domed! We rided arond Keens Landen on r hoarses and her hoarse seem 2 be fastar and i wuz ot of ballets so i coldnt shit her. Than sudanly Matel Fase flyed don in frant of me and grabed my hoarse with his claws and kild it and i felled on teh grond agen. Lauren gotted of her hoarse and grab me.

Serious question for a second, is Matel Fase supposed to be Master Hand? I think it is...

"Now im gona taek u 2 teh dunjun until im reedy 4 me and Kaytee 2 rap u!" So i wuz putin teh dunjun of teh palas. Ho wud i get ot of thes on?!

Now I remember why I haven’t touched this blog in over a year, and this fic specifically in two and a half... I’m going to need another long nap.

Overall Thoughts:

What do you think.

Thank every single one of you for reading this. I know we’ve been away for a long time, but I promise, me, Sonia, Kirigiri, and Mage can officially say:

We’re back!

Thanks for reading.

*Nanami*

[badhomestuckfanfiction-blog]

Homestuck High - Chapter 4

Homestuck high Chapter 4: The duel, a homestuck fanfic | FanFiction

to the people asking if im a troll no i am not i wuld rly like 2 bee one tho since the homestuck ones are cool!

~My worst fear is confirmed

idk why id own a dildo to stick up an ass lol im not old enough 2 own one.

~A. I love how you took their comment as a serious request

~B. If you're not old enough then WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WRITING EROTIC FICTION!?

to the nice ppl who left nice reviews i wnt 2 say thank u because they made me smile hehe.

~It must take some serious willpower to write a nice review on this story

nefotion gave me a REALLY god idea 2 add in wizards 2 the story so i might do that.

~You already got one though

~for the last god damn time, hagrid, im not a fuckin wwizard

im rely glad u like the character developement but whaat is my immortal? do you mean like the song by evenescense?

~I actually read My Immortal earlier today and DEAR LORD. I'm not even part of the Harry Potter fandom but it was just so awful

Just when all hope was thought to be lost Eridan took out of his deadly weapon knwon as the almighty Demontroll and began to rock out on it so the noise would distract Sollux wich it did and he let go of Jade and she came running over to them.

~But Eridan's Strife Specibus is Riflekind though

"Thank you sooooooooooo much John" she exclaimed

"My name is Eridan, John is no longer part of this body but exists now within hells wreched flames!" Eridan spoke

"Oh ok" Jade said

~#Jadebestfriend

and walked over to Dave

"So..." Sollux begins as he took out his own instrement, the dark and almighty Red

~And blue

tooth which was an old wooden violin

~If Sollux played an instrument it would probably be a double-neck guitar

and began to fight back against Eridan "You are challenging me to a duel"

"You will not win it" Eridan ejaculates

~That's the second time someone ejaculated from talking

as he plucks the guitar harder "you will not win over my wrath and you will no take these chicks back to your castle within the dark clouds to create the next evil dark overloard!"

~Can I just take a moment to ask why Sollux is evil

"Then if i lose the battle you must hand over to me Rose and Jade so I may plant the dark spawn within them to create the ultimite POWER" Sollux suggested

~Wait, that happens if he LOSES? Wouldn't he WANT to lose then?

Both demons began to rock out on their instruments and a clash of white and black aroma smashed together within the space between them as they batteld it out. they began to sweat. it was a tough duel but Eridan did a triple eighty and knocked Sollux back flying.

~How does playing an instrument knock someone back?

"WELL DONE ERIDAN!" everyone on Eridans side cheered.

~Is there anyone besides Sollux not on his side?

"Whatevs" Eridan said, putting his guitar into his pocket

~It's bigger on the inside

~Unrelated, but I can't wait for series 10 of Doctor Who. I used to be a massive Whovian, but now it's been over a year since series 9 ended, and I really want to reignite that flame. Anyways, back to the story

Sollux walked away in defeat but hed be backk they all knew it.

Eridan took off his horns and John returned.

"What happenend" John ingerigated

~Ingerigated

"you turned into a super awesome demon

~They're called trolls

called Eridan and you battled that Sollux guy to protect me and Jade" Rose bubbled.

~Rose bubbled

"Oh ok" John said

~What is it with John and having the most underwhelming reactions?

"Lets go to class" Gamzee cornered

~Is the author just using random words they don't know the meaning of to try and sound smart?

"I smell a war coming..."

~That's Terezi's job

~Actually, where is Terezi? Or Nepeta? Or literally any of the other trolls?

Tarvos wanred "I do not like this. Be careful John mboy"

The next day Rose came over to John bubbling with news

"John guess what" she said

"what" John said

"Were going to have a baby" she cried

~I know I already used this image 3 times but

"Thats great" John said

~Not even an exclamation mark. Fucking cold

~Also, teen pregnancy is far from great

and he hugged her tightly. he always wanted to be a

"Whats going on" Dave inquisited

~Dave somehow managed to interrupt the narrator

"Rose is going to have a baby" John said proudly

Dave smiled "But wait what about Sollux and the dark spawm"

~He said this while smiling

"Dont worry about that right now we must celebrate" Rose manifactured.

~Manifactured

"Ok" Dave said

next chapter there will be a baby shower and a realy big surprise but is it a good or bad one review to find out

~Probably awful, but I'm not sure if it'll be worse than *shudder* chapter 3

[avanneman]

Baby Driver: Jon Hamm doesn’t know Shakespeare

Actually, that should read “Edgar Wright, writer/director of Baby Driver, doesn’t know Shakespeare”, but Big Jon said it in the picture, and who knows Edgar Wright, amirite? But it’s all Edgar’s fault that poor Jon (aka "Buddy") is stuck with the line “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” when it should be “Romeo! Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” And, therefore, entirely inappropriate for the scene, in which Hamm is seeking to find, and murder, “Romeo”, aka “Baby Driver”, in a parking garage.

It’s inappropriate because, of course, Juliet is not asking “Where are you, Romeo?” No, she’s asking “Why is your name Romeo?” though what she really means is “Why did you have to be a Montague, instead of the scion of some noble family that my family (the Capulets) is not feuding with? Then I could marry you! For what’s in a name?”

Okay, that does require a little unpacking, not to mention some actual knowledge of the play, which, clearly, exceeds Eddie’s grasp.1

So, if you hadn’t already guessed, I’m not a fan of Baby Driver, despite its 98% “Smash” (“Smash” as in “good”) rating from Rotten Tomatoes, which, I guess, is not infallible. Baby Driver is itself a mannered, misbegotten smash of Bonnie & Clyde, about which I’ve raved, Pulp Fiction, and Blue Velvet, neither of which I thought were worth a pixel.

I went to Baby Driver expecting/hoping for some shallow, bad-ass, R-rated summer entertainment, and the film started off well, with “Baby Driver” (Ansel Elgort) as this sweet, silent bad-ass “driver”, a pretty boy version of Michael J. Pollard’s semi-autistic yet good-natured and ever efficient C. W. Moss. A whole film dedicated to a modern-day C. W! Sounds like fun!2

And so it was for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, Baby rockin’ out on his iPod to some golden oldies while waiting for the grown-ups to finish with their bank-robbin’. Grown-ups, well, they don’t always do things right, so that sirens are wailing even before Baby can pop the clutch3, but that ain’t no matter. We’re in for some serious, serious rubber burnin', without the sense of moral and aesthetic shame that inevitably comes from watching a Vin Diesel movie.4

But after that great beginning, the film starts going sideways. Seems Baby only does his driving because he’s in hock to suavely evil crime lord Kevin Spacey, who may as well be sleep walking for all the nuance he brings to the part. Even worse, Baby takes his hard-earned cash home to his deaf black foster dad Joseph (CJ Jones), who, fortunately, is not Morgan Freeman, though he’s so nobly suffering he may as well be. Baby signs with Joe, and anybody who watches movies knows that anyone who can sign and speak is part angel.

Yeah, this is kitsch on top of kitsch—as a matter of fact, it’s superkitsch—but why stop now? Only sissies quit when they’re ahead. Baby’s creative too! He records what people say, adds some percussion and riffs and turns it all into a sort of “found art”, kind of like an aural Joseph Cornell!

Of course, this idyll has to be busted, though it’s hardly Baby’s fault. He meets this really sweet chick (Lily James as “Deborah”), a chick as sweet as he is, and if you guessed she’d be a waitress, well, you guessed right. Yeah, it’s young love, true love, like a fifties Chevrolet ad come to life, if you know what one of those was.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you, Baby still owes Kev “one more job.” Yes, one more job! You have to hit those clichés on the head, boy! Otherwise, they’ll get away from you!

The gang for the last job includes the seriously bad ass “Bats” (Jamie Foxx), an obviously slumming Jon Hamm,5 and his crazy bitch wife “Darling” (Eiza González), a hundred and seven pounds of implausible, gum-poppin’ malevolence. So what could go wrong?

Well, everything, of course. But the twists, the double crosses, and the blow outs just don’t have the bang of the first fifteen minutes. We’re deep in Quentin Tarantino land, with repetitive outbursts of unlikely, mannered violence—though, to be fair, Wright entirely lacks Tarantino’s compulsive sadism, and I mean that entirely as a compliment.

But the real killer for me is not Wright’s stylized violence (Elza blazing away with an Uzi in either hand, for example, which would pretty much guarantee that she couldn’t hit anything),6 but his pathetic sentimentality. Very much unlike Tarantino or David Lynch, Wright lacks the nerve to kill off a single sympathetic character. The Baby/Debbie lovey-dovey dialogue is so syrupy that you half wonder if Debbie is setting him up—if the film is setting you up. Is Debbie going to take Baby’s cash and blow his head off as a final twist? Nope. She waits five years for him to get sprung from the federal pen so they can ride off into the sunset together. What a letdown!

Afterwords Like Tarantino, Wright is seriously into retro cultural references—music, films, etc. That’s because a director’s “world” is limited to old movies. They can’t make contemporary cultural references because no one’s made a movie about that yet. The most egregious occurs when crime boss Spacey tells the gang to pick up some “Michael Myers Halloween masks” for the heist, leading to some confusion. Did he mean “masks of the character Michael Myers in the 1978 Jamie Lee Curtis classic Halloween” or “masks of Michael “Austin Powers” Myers for Halloween”? If you thought that was funny, you probably call Mom’s basement “home”.

It's "arguable", I guess, that it's supposed to be Buddy's error—that he's a Philistine as well as a murderer—but that strikes me as a stretch. The "correct" reading of Juliet's line was the subject of a Peanuts cartoon sometime near the close of the last millennium. ↩︎

Michael J. Pollard—“the homuncular, elfin, inexplicably popular” Michael J. Pollard, in Leonard Maltin’s bizarrely uncharitable characterization—worked that CW thang to the hilt, “playing virtually the same offbeat, imbecilic character” throughout his career, to Maltin’s further dismay. Jesus, Leo! Did you never get laid? ↩︎

Baby’s almost surely not working a stick, but idioms can’t always keep up with the technology. ↩︎

Still, one has to feel sorry for Vin, having to share “his” franchise with “the Rock”—because it was so successful! ↩︎

It seems very likely that Hamm will simply never get past Don Draper. When you hear that voice, you know the guy is suite smart, not street smart. You’re elegant, Jon, you’re elegant. Just accept it, and get on with your life. ↩︎

The mêlée gets so intense that one of the lenses of Baby's shades pops out, in ridiculous homage to the bit in Godard's über classic À bout de souffle, already too cutely reprised in Bonnie & Clyde. Once was too much! Twice is ridiculous! ↩︎