#this scene is from before lewis joins the party

[duskianfae]

POV - You fell in love with the girl from another world you met in the forest one day so you try to get closer to her by asking about the music from Earth, but she gets do passionate talking about it that you get distracted by how much you want to kiss her.

[formula-1-otp]

House party

Summary : Yuki throws a house party for the summer break everyone has fun some shenanigans have to occur of course!

A/N : Hello everyone! I apologize in advance this is not my best work I don’t know I just struggled to write anything but wanted the practice so here we are! I hope you guys enjoy it!

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A party, everyone loved a party. What better time than their summer vacation to have a big grid party? Yuki ran around his shared apartment with Pierre and Esteban, making sure everything was in order, the food and drinks were set, the music just had to be turned on and the house was spotless. Yuki smiled to himself proudly as Pierre came up behind him and wrapped an arm around his back.

“It looks great Yuki,” Pierre commented before putting a soft kiss on the shorter man.

“I hope everyone has fun,” Yuki replied, Pierre knew this was a big deal for the young Japanese man, he had spent the last few days coming up a storm and getting everything they needed to have an amazing party. Pierre had tried to help but with Yuki wanting everything to be perfect Pierre had given up and left the shorter man to do it himself. It wasn’t long before Esteban joined the two downstairs admiring how the house was set up to accommodate all 20 drivers and their partners and friends who were also invited.

The doorbell rang not too long after five George and Lewis being the first to arrive.

“This looks great Yuki,” George commented while looking around the house to see how nice it looked. Most of the drivers hadn’t been to the three men’s house so it was also a bit of a housewarming party.

Slowly people started arriving the music was on people were mingling, dancing and just having a great time.

Oscar was dragging Lando towards the front door of the house.

“We’re already 2 hours late and later and we won’t have a party to attend,” Oscar was trying to reason with Lando, the Brit however wanted to be fashionably late.

“What if someone is later than us then we didn’t make an entrance,” Lando argued to the Aussie. Oscar just rolled his eyes before knocking on the door. He had given up arguing with the Brit. Pierre opened the door and smiled at the two in front of him.

“You guys made it!” Pierre smiled before letting the two inside. “Make yourselves at home, lots of food and drinks left,” Pierre motioned to the table in the dining room.

Oscar watched as Lando was dragged away for shots by Carlos. He just shook his head and giggled before going over to Liam and Logan who were just off in the corner.

“Hey guys fun party yeah?” Oscar asked his best friend and the other man’s partner. They both smiled laughing slightly.

“Yeah haha not much into parties these days,” Logan replied he knew him and Oscar mostly stayed away from the party scene.

“I see you’re gonna have fun tonight?” Liam asked giggling as he watched Lando take at least 5 shots back to back. Oscar looked over before just shaking his head. Lando would regret these decisions in the morning but Oscar would let him enjoy the party for right now.

“LIAM! I need a beer bong partner come win with me!” Max was yelling across the house. Liam just smiled before heading towards the backyard where the beer pong was set up.

Logan and Oscar just stared at the scene in front for a few minutes. Oscar could see Liam drinking back drinks that were points for the other team.

“I see you’ll also be having fun tomorrow,” Oscar chuckled.

Charles was right next to Lando shot for shot, trying to keep up with the Brit, George was on the other side of the table he was a few shots behind but trying to catch up. Charles smiled as he could feel the alcohol hitting him. He put his arm around Lando to keep his balance.

“Carlos! I need your love!” Charles yelled around the house trying to track down the Spaniard who was chatting with Lewis and Nico.

“Charles I’m right here,” Carlos replied as the Monegasque flopped on his lap. Carlos rubbed his back gently trying to continue his conversation with the two men in front of him. He knew Charles got clingy when he was drunk, Carlos knew this would be the outcome he just thought they’d make it to 10 pm before it was a real issue.

George watched as Charles walked to go find Carlos he looked at Lando with a smirk on his lips.

“First to 5 wins?” George asked knowing Lando knew what he was talking about. Kevin poured the two Brits 5 shots each getting the table ready for the competition.

“3… 2… 1… GO!” Kevin yelled as the two Brits started scrambling to get the shots down. Everyone cheered as Lando managed to chug back his last shot seconds before George got his last one down. Both boys standing slightly swaying from the amount of alcohol in their system.

“I won! Woohoo!” Lando cheered around the house as he grabbed another drink that he didn’t need. George just grumbled before chugging back his beer.

Lance was winning beer pong with Fernando as the two cheered getting another shot on Max and Liam. Max finally got one point compared to the two cups left on the opposite side.

“See you’re not good at everything Max,” Fernando sneakily replied but everyone knew there was no venom behind his words solely happiness from beating the Dutch.

“I just need a few more shots I’m confident we will win,” Max snapped back, laughing as he said it.

Everyone was enjoying their time away from the track media and all their day-to-day activities. It was nice to just let go for a while. Pierre looked around the party, everyone was enjoying themselves inside it wasn’t until he made his way towards the door he realized he heard yelling coming from outside.

“MCLAREN WILL ALWAYS BE BETTER!” Pierre rounded the corner to see Lando and Charles screaming in each other’s faces.

“FERRARI IS THE KING OF FORMULA 1!” Charles snapped back Pierre could see a drunk Liam trying to get in between the two.

“Can we just agree you both have great teams?” Liam added trying to break up the fight that he could see coming.

“Shut up redbull driver!” Both boys snapped in Liam's direction. The Kiwi just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be mean to Liam he just knows the best team,” Max added calmly.

Pierre quickened his pace to stop the altercation. He would be having no fights tonight not on his property anyway. Unfortunately, he was a little too late as he made it to the group he didn’t have time to stop Lando from swinging on Charles, but unfortunately in his drunken state, he missed and clocked Liam right in the nose. The kiwi instantly bent over the blood evident.

“Look what you did Lando!?” Charles was the first to react. Pierre quickly got in between the group.

“Lando inside now, go find Oscar and get Logan out here, CARLOS COME GET YOUR MAN!” Pierre yelled hoping the Spaniard would hear him and his thoughts correct when Carlos came barreling out the sliding door.

“Cariño what’s wrong?” Carlos was instantly at Charles's side while the montegasque explained what happened. Pierre was trying to help Liam and see if his nose was broken, it was a little swollen and bleeding a lot but it didn’t seem broken.

“Lando was being mean to me,” Pierre was glad his back was to Charles he couldn’t help the eye roll. He had to assume something like this would’ve happened but he didn’t expect it to be the two good friends.

“I’m sorry cariño, I’ll protect you from him,” Carlos dragged Charles towards some of the outdoor seating where Lance and Esteban were talking.

Lando walked up to Oscar and Logan head down, he was sad he had fought with Charles. He just couldn’t listen to the Monegasque talk about Ferrari anymore tonight.

“Hey, Lando what’s wrong?” Oscar was instantly by his side when he saw the look Lando had. The Aussie shared a concerned look before turning to the Brit.

“Me and Charles got in a fight…. And I accidentally punched Liam…” Oscar instantly looked to Logan to see the American already heading for the door.

“I didn’t mean to punch him, Oscar, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the alcohol was playing with Lando’s emotions and the Brit couldn’t help but the tears that started falling. Oscar pulled him close to his chest.

“It’s okay we’ll let them calm down and you can go say your sorry and make up with Charles,” Oscar gave him a soft smile making Lando smile in return bringing back the goofy personality Lando held so well.

Logan made it outside to see Pierre trying to help. Both boys were covered in blood but Logan could see most of it looked dry.

“Hey, you okay?” Logan couldn’t help the worry in his voice. Parties weren’t his thing, it was one of the first outings he and Liam had gone to as a couple and he had reassured Liam several times that he was welcome and that the drivers would be happy he was coming.

“Yeah my fault, I shouldn’t have got in between them,” Liam responded giving Logan a soft look. Logan was sure the worry was still plastered on his face. He could see Charles crying with Carlos not too far away.

“As long as you’re okay,” Logan wanted to make sure Liam wasn’t downplaying it but even he could see the real smile Liam gave him.

“Now I’m gonna go to the bathroom and wipe the blood off my face how about you go get us some more drinks?” Liam suggested and Logan nodded before both boys went inside.

Pierre was glad to see the fight had dissipated. He quickly went to join Lance, Esteban, Carlos and Charles.

“Hey guys everyone having fun?”

After a few hours the party was starting to die down, everyone was mostly just sitting around chatting, the music quietly in the background. Everyone collectively decided to watch a movie since most couldn’t drive due to the alcohol they consumed they had planned to just wait it out till mid-day the next day. Esteban quickly got the projector set up outside so everyone would have a bit more space. Once everything was ready everyone headed outside to get comfy and watch a movie under the summer stars.

Somehow the group decided on something other than cars much to Liam and Charles's dismay and settled on Taledega nights. Yuki sat cuddled in between his boyfriends.

“Thank you for letting me throw this party,” Yuki was slightly slurring from the alcohol but he was still pretty coherent.

“Of course love,”

“Anything for you,” Esteban and Pierre placed kisses evenly on Yuki's cheeks. The young Japanese feel loved.

Carlos had Charles close, sitting beside Lando and Oscar. “I’m sorry Lando,” Charles finally spoke to the Brit after avoiding him for most of the night.

“I'm sorry too,” the two boys made up quickly. “I’m sorry to you Liam I promise I wasn’t aiming for you,” Lando added to make it clear.

“It’s all good guys I’m just glad you’re friends again,” the other two just chuckled while their boyfriends shared a look.

Lance and Fernando sat close to Lewis and George. Just want to have a good small conversation more than watch the movie.

Slowly people fell asleep in the early hours till there were few people left awake when the sun rose.

Oscar sat with Max and Lance as the sun rose over the hill. The boys sat quietly for a bit enjoying the beauty.

“We should do this more often,” Max commented smiling at the two beside him.

“It’s nice to just hang out and not feel pressured to say the right thing or do the right thing all the time,” Lance replied, he was a little awkward but he had warmed up to the grid as the night went on.

“We’ll have to do a quarterly hang out, but maybe next time, not so much alcohol,” the three laughed as Oscar could see the scattered bottles and cans around the yard and house. He could hear some groaning already from the sleeping group as the sun came over the hill.

“Well I think I’ll wake Lando and get him home, I’m sure he’s gonna be grumpy and hungover,” Oscar chuckled as he could see Lando passed out in the grass, most of them had blankets and pillows around but Lando had at some point gotten up and fell asleep elsewhere most likely looking for Oscar. As the two men got ready to deal with the hoards they watched as George got up and sprinted inside. The three glanced between each other smiling before Max spoke.

“Yeah, less alcohol next time,”

[docrotten]

SPOOKIES (1986) – Episode 257 – Decades Of Horror 1980s

“We almost got our tuchus plunged!” Almost? Shoot, that would’ve made a perfect scene to go with the farting Muck Men. Join your faithful Grue Crew – Crystal Cleveland, Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, and Jeff Mohr – as they discuss Spookies (1986)! Wait. Why haven’t we seen this before?

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 257 – Spookies (1986)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! Click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Gruesome Magazine is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of Decades of Horror 1980s and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

(It was going to be) A group of teens go to an abandoned house to party and do battle with spirits and creatures they accidentally release from a strange Ouija board. (Instead, it became) A wicked sorcerer tries to sacrifice a group of people inside his house to use their vitality to keep his wife alive.

  Directed by: Thomas Doran & Brendan Faulkner (footage from Twisted Souls); Genie Joseph (as Eugenie Joseph);

Writing Credits: Thomas Doran, Frank M. Farel, & Brendan Faulkner (Twisted Souls footage screenplay); Ann Burgund (additional material) (credited as Joseph Burgund)

Produced by:

Thomas Doran, Frank M. Farel, Brendan Faulkner (producers) (unfinished film Twisted Souls)

Genie Joseph (producer) (credited as Eugenie Joseph)

Michael Lee (executive producer: Miggles Corporation)

Makeup Department:

Jennifer Aspinall (makeup artist/special makeup effects) (credited as Jennifer Aspinal)

Gabriel Bartalos (special makeup effects)

Arnold Gargiulo (special makeup effects) (credited as Arnold Gargiulo II)

Vincent J. Guastini (special makeup effects) (credited as Vincent Guastini)

Nick Santeramo (assistant makeup effects)

Nancy Tong (makeup artist) (credited as Nanxy Tong)

John Dods (prosthetic makeup artist) (uncredited)

Special Effects by:

Ken Brilliant (animation model construction)

John Dods (creator: additional effects/special creature design and animation)

Ken Walker (animation model construction)

John Mathews (creature effects assistant) (uncredited)

Visual Effects by:

Al Magliochetti (special effects photography)

Larry Revene (special effects photography)

Selected Cast:

Peter Dain as Peter

Kim Merrill as Meegan

Nick Gionta as Duke

Joan Ellen Delaney as Linda

Charlotte Alexandra as Adrienne (credited as Charlotte Seeley)

Anthony Valbiro as Dave

Lisa Friede as Carol

Al Magliochetti as Lewis Wilson

Peter Iasillo Jr. as Rich

Soo Paek as The Spider Woman

James M. Glenn as The Grim Reaper

Gabriel Bartalos as Muck Man

Peter Delynn as Muck Man

John Beatty as Muck Man

Robert Epstein as Graveyard Zombie

Felix Ward as Kreon

Maria Pechukas as Isabelle

Dan Scott as Kreon’s Servant

Alec Nemser as Billy

A.J. Lowenthal as Korda/Son of Kreon & Isabelle

Pat Wesley Bryan as Drifter

If Spookies feels like two different movies, it’s because it’s one of those nightmare productions where the “making of” story might be more interesting than the movie itself. Yes, too many cooks spoil the broth and Spookies is solid evidence that too many filmmakers ruin the movie. With production being shanghaied near the beginning of post-production work and half the film reshot, Grue Believers will never know if the original crew’s vision would’ve made a better movie. Throw in some top makeup and effects people early in their careers and the Grue Crew have plenty to fuel their talkabout of this fun, mess of a movie.

At the time of this writing, Spookies is available to stream from Tubi, Shudder, ScreamBox, and AMC+, and on physical media in Blu-ray format in a 2-disc set from Vinegar Syndrome.

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film chosen by Jeff, will be Just Before Dawn (1981), an underappreciated slasher from co-writer/director Jeff Lieberman (Squirm, 1976; Blue SunshineI, 1977) and starring George Kennedy, Chris Lemmon, Deborah Benson, Greg Henry, and Mike Kellin. 

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the Gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the Gruesome Magazine website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!

[titaniumrock]

Saw a few people post their character sheets a while back and wanted to make my own so here is my Playa. Underneath the source for this template is some lore or whatever for my character which you can also find on a later post, but yeah.

So my Playa's actual name is Alex Lewis and he grew up with very rich parents. (I think Playa being apart of a gang and living like a 'normal' person when he has a shit ton of money and rich parents is funny. Plus it's a nice explanation on why he can just grab the money from the in-game safes from the cribs without any care, as it can be part of the gangs 'checks' to their people and his 'allowance' because holy crap there's usually a lot of money in those things.) Now he's also the youngest of the three children (him included) his parents had. (His parents were trying to embody the Nuclear family, Dad works, mom stays home, and the children have to be (for them) one boy, one girl, and the last child is a wild card (boy or girl).)

So unlike Playas two siblings (Adam and Brooklyn) who were raised pretty strict so that his parents could have the 'perfect family', he was given lots of freedom as he was the wild card in the family and they figured that he would follow his siblings lead (which was pretty much true). But while he had that freedom he was also held to the same standards as his two siblings and was pretty sheltered to the world. So because of that it kind of enforced the idea of following along with whatever others say (usually) especially in the two gangs he had joined (this will be expanded upon).

Now because of the high pressure and anxiety from his parents to reach and even surpass the bar that was set and sometimes even rising further, he developed selective mutism. When this developed his mother was frantic with finding out what was wrong with him, she went to numerous doctors which all gave her the same answer. She eventually accepted it and did everything she could to try and 'fix' it which is also a big factor in why he was given so much freedom. His mother also over accommodates him quite a lot which is why he tends to not want to be seen with her as it's rather embarrassing, especially when she makes a scene. His selective mutism also only really dissipates when he's relaxed with a person in an area he's relaxed in, in a area alone and away from everyone where his anxiety melts away (example; his car, his room, the loft, outside in the wilderness, and out on the water), wearing a full face mask, extremely high anger which runs over his anxiety (otherwise he stays quiet and seethes internally), and when he can't suppress a stupid joke. Otherwise he just writes out his words/expresses them, examples on where/what he uses; phone text, charades, refrigerator letters, paper and pen, white/chalk board, basically anything.

Later in life when he finishes high school his family moves over to Stilwater for his fathers job. ( His sister coming with as she didn't like the city they were living in before and she didn't want to move out just yet.) This is where Playa finally gets to move out and he finds a listing for the Loft we see in game. (I really like this Loft for some reason so it's Playas now). He also decided to do some baby sitting and he babysits two little girls that dress him up like a princess and forces him to do tea parties and what not, which is why he keeps his hair long so that the two girls can decorate it. Those two little girls are also some of the few people he actually speaks too after a little while of babysitting them.

While he's there he ends up first joining the Vice kings (ironically enough considering how close the saints are) because someone invited him to join after he accidentally saves a few of their asses a few times. While he was with them he found that many of the members used him to buy things but he was primarily used as a scapegoat, many members leaving him to clean up their messes especially when they found out he was from money. After a few months of this he eventually had enough and left when he was almost killed, essentially faking his own death to the gang. With that little experience he did his best to just stay away from the gangs until he was saved by Julius, which then made Playa reconsider and join up with the saints.

[carlando554]

post the hockey au scene! would love to read ❤️

ahhh okay!! Here it is!!!

“He wasn’t always like this, you know,” Lando startled a bit at Lewis’ words.

“Er–who are we talking about?” 

“Carlos. He wasn’t always this outgoing with the team. I don’t know what you did but since you got here he’s really come out of his shell.” 

“Really?” Lando hadn’t known that. He’d assumed Carlos had always been like this. 

“Really. I mean, he was always friendly, but now he’s fun. I think we’d all kind of accepted that he was just a bit more reserved, but seeing him now it’s obvious that there was just something holding him back, and whatever it was seems to have disappeared with you.” 

Lando fought against the blush that threatened to take over his entire face. “How d’you know it was me that made the difference though? Maybe it was just a new-season-resolution or something.” 

“Nah,” Lewis dismissed immediately, “he’s practically glued to your side 24/7–and don’t try to say it’s a center-winger thing, we both know you and I aren’t nearly as close. I’ve actually been wanting to have this conversation with you for weeks but it was near impossible to get you alone. It’s obvious your friendship has had a massive impact on him. I guess I just wanted to say thank you on behalf of the team. It’s nice to see him happy like this.” Lando’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest. 

Was Lewis right? Was their friendship as important to Carlos as it was to Lando? Well, probably not seeing as Lando was basically in love with Carlos and Carlos was still straight. But the idea that Lando had made such a profound change in Carlos that the rest of the team had noticed it? Lando liked it a lot. Probably too much. 

“No need to thank me mate, I don’t know how but that idiot’s become one of my best friends. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Lando froze for a second, worried he might have given himself away, but Lewis just smiled at him before raising his beer for Lando to clink his own against in a toast. 

“You’re a good man, Norris, keep it up and you might take my role as captain one day.” 

Lando laughed and playfully swatted at Lewis. “Hey! No retirement talk! Not at your own birthday party!” 

“You rookies and your determination to ignore the passage of time. I’m 38 this year, whether I like it or not, retirement is on my horizon. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure my team will be in good hands?” Lando was alarmed to realize that he was getting emotional. He’d only been Lewis’ teammate for about four months, but he’d already come to care greatly for the man. It was obvious why he was the team captain for seven years running. 

“Just give us some warning when the time comes, alright? Don’t pull a Seb on us.” 

Lewis laughed at his words but it sounded somewhat melancholy. “Don’t worry about that, I’m not nearly as secretive as he is. I mean, I’m a few years away from that decision yet and I’m already talking to you about it. So. Yeah, you’ll know.” Lewis smiled at Lando and Lando smiled back.

“Alright old man, stop moping around the cripple’s corner and go have fun. It’s your party.” Lando laughed as he shoved Lewis away from the couch. 

He wasn’t alone for long before someone came to join him.

“Was Lewis taking advantage of your injury to corner you?” Carlos asked, a soft smile on his face as he took a seat next to Lando, careful not to jostle his raised ankle. Lando was reminded of what Lewis said about him and Carlos and his smile widened a bit. 

“Why? You jealous that I'm hanging out with someone other than you?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos with his elbow.

“Maybe I am,” Carlos said, an exaggerated pout on his face. Lando just snorted in response. 

“Well you shouldn’t be. I think I spend more time with you than I do George and Alex. And I live with them.” Carlos’ expression turned sheepish.

“I do not mean to keep you away from your friends–” Lando cut his ridiculousness off right there.

“Oh please Carlos, you know that’s not what I meant.” He raised his eyebrows, fixing Carlos with a stern look. “If I wanted to be spending more time with my other friends I would be. Okay? You’re not keeping me away from anyone. I don’t want to hear such absurdity again.” Carlos was beaming at him now and Lando had to look away because the sight sent a bolt of pain through his chest. “Alright, enough with the sappy shit,” he huffed, “you’re as bad as Cap!” 

“Ay!” Carlos laughed, bringing his hand to his chest in mock offense, “you wound me cabrón, I’m nowhere near as sappy as Cap!”

“You’re right, you’re worse,” Lando replied, and then immediately squealed as he was tickled in retaliation. “Okay! Okay! I take it back! Mercy!” 

“Woah, Chili! Attacking the injured man, that’s low dude,” Lance said, wandering into the room. 

“Yes but he deserved it, so it is okay.” 

“Ha! That I can believe,” Lance replied, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Aw c’mon!” Lando protested, but he was laughing along too.

[denimbex1986]

'Critically acclaimed producer and director Christopher Nolan blew it out of the water with his latest film, “Oppenheimer,” released this Friday. Centered around the father of the atomic bomb, J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy), this movie recounts the theoretical physicist’s tumultuous life and his role in the Manhattan Project.

Nolan had a great task at hand: condensing Oppenheimer's eventful life into just three hours. Before leading the top-secret Manhattan Project, Oppenheimer was an ambitious young scientist and a professor at the University of California, Berkeley and the California Institute of Technology. The film touches on his ties to communism and fervent communist Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh), with whom he had an affair. After World War II ended, The US government viciously deposed Oppenheimer for his past affiliations with the Communist Party while also facing the guilt of designing the weapon with the capacity to end mankind. Oppenheimer’s story is turbulent and intriguing and it is truly amazing to catch a glimpse into one of the world's greatest minds.

Oppenheimer’s affair, depositions and the hearings of Lewis Strauss (Robert Downie Jr.) are all extensive and important storylines throughout the movie, not to mention the Manhattan project. In this regard, Nolan may have bitten off a little more than he could chew, as characters within these plot points aren’t fully fleshed out. David Hill (Rami Malek) only has a minor role in the film, until he curiously turns up during an important scene and steals the show. It is never explicitly explained who he is or where he came from. Even Strauss, the main antagonist of the film, felt like he was lacking development.

Nolan structured the plot in a unique fashion, revealing fragments of Oppenheimer’s life during different periods of the movie. Like a jigsaw puzzle, the film revisits vague or unfinished scenes to add context or that missing piece to allow the audience to understand the full picture. To highlight this film technique, the words ‘fission’ and ‘fusion’ can be seen in the opening scene, meaning a division into parts and the joining of things to form a single entity.

In Nolan's previous works, cinematography has always been a strong suit. Films like “Interstellar” and “Inception” include breathtaking shots and electrifying scenes. In “Oppenheimer,” various scenes utilize close-ups of Oppenheimer’s facial expressions to portray his immense feelings of guilt and remorse.

In addition, Nolan prefers to capture scenes without the use of CGI. In the 2020 movie “Tenet,” Nolan blew up a real Boeing 747 and opted to go a similar route for the Trinity test in “Oppenheimer” (the first atomic bomb test in Los Alamos). Although the specific details of how Nolan captured the Trinity test scene remain a mystery, Nolan confirmed the crew used camera trickery and smaller explosions to recreate the detonations of an atomic bomb. The sheer dedication to making every scene as real as possible isn’t without return, it does astound you.

Composer Ludwig Göransson delivered a remarkable score that amplified the emotions of every scene. In the more suspenseful moments, the music was deafeningly intense. Unfortunately, in many instances, the music masked the actors' lines, which made it harder to follow the face-paced and elaborate plot.

However, “Oppenheimer” is definitely worth your time and money to see. The minor flaws barely take away from the film. The plot is engaging and the science is fascinating. Cillian Murphy put in an Oscar-worthy performance that was incredible to watch. If you are interested in a thought-provoking movie that goes beyond your typical war movie, I highly recommend “Oppenheimer.”'

[serve-update]

Billy Beane Net Worth: As Long As He Is Physically Able, He Plans To Keep Playing Sports!

Bill Beane III, born in the United States, played for the major leagues and is now a front-office executive with the baseball team. On March 29, 1962, he was born in Orlando, Florida.

Billy Beane Net Worth

General Manager Billy Beane of the American baseball team the Oakland Athletics earns $3 million per year and has a net worth of $20 million. Billy Beane began his career as a major league baseball player and later became an influential figure in the industry from behind the scenes.  He is presently the Oakland Athletics' vice president of baseball operations, vice president of front office operations, and a minority owner. He joined the Athletics as a scout and has since held the positions of general manager and executive vice president. The following articles may also pique your interest: Randall Emmett Net Worth. His professional baseball career was mostly overlooked, but he went on to achieve great success as a business leader. Statistical analysis of players is only one example of the technical breakthroughs that have facilitated Beane's unconventional approach to baseball management. A novel titled "Moneyball," written by Michael Lewis in 2003, was turned into a film starring Brad Pitt the following year. Billy used to only play baseball, but now he plays a variety of other sports, including soccer. He has recently acquired a minority share in the English Championship club Barnsley FC. In addition, he is a co-owner of the Eredivisie club AZ Alkmaar in the Dutch soccer league. Beane cares about more than simply athletics, though. In the software industry and elsewhere, he has also found great success. We hope that you enjoy this content Eric Yuan Net Worth. We got a tweet for Billy Beane Net Worth. https://twitter.com/Society_watch/status/1618998531502624771

Billy Beane The Player.

With the 23rd pick in the 1980 Major League Baseball Draft, the New York Mets took Billy, making him the team's second-ever draught pick following Terry Francona. When the Mets had the first overall pick in the draught, they took Darryl Strawberry. Throughout his time in the majors, Beane had nothing but trouble. We hope you read about Lala Kent Net Worth. Billy played in 148 games throughout the course of his six-year career, hitting three home runs and driving in twenty-nine runs. His lifetime batting average of.219 combined with his lack of productivity to earn him a -1.6 WAR. We can safely claim that his move to the front desk was a life-changing event.

Billy Beane Net Worth

As Long As He Is Physically Able, He Plans To Keep Playing Sports.

Oakland, California— Billy Beane will stay with the Athletics until Oakland gets a new ballpark, which he still expects. Beane said Monday that he would stay with the A's as executive vice president of baseball operations as long as they needed him. Beane has been courted by the Boston Red Sox and New York Mets in recent years, but he has remained loyal to the low-budget A's despite financial restraints and losing star players owing to high contracts. "What makes me happy? Having a new stadium soon. Beane said, "If it's possible while my occupation," laughing. However, we will because the group and city deserve it. That'll happen." Oakland A's owner John Fisher and president Dave Kaval are designing a ballpark for Jack London Square. Beane remarked, "I know that ever since it started with Dave and John Fisher, look, they've been preoccupied with trying to secure a venue here, and it's not easy." My unique perspective lets me share this information with you. It's frustrating because groups want stability. We won't be without a new place. I'm not lazy. I've considered both sides and it's complicated. No "Who's responsible?" City or person. Nope. Both parties struggle." 102-point loss Before COVID-19, the A's home record was 29-51 and attendance was 1,662,211. In May 2021, Major League Baseball authorized Oakland's brass to contemplate relocating if no ballpark agreement could be reached. Kaval has said the club is working on "parallel courses" in Oakland and Las Vegas. The A's are Oakland's lone major league sports franchise after the Golden State Warriors and Raiders migrated to San Francisco and Las Vegas, respectively. The Oakland plan calls for a 35,000-seat waterfront ballpark, 3,000 residential units, office and retail space, hotel rooms, and an indoor performance center to be built for $1 billion with private finance. Must be checked this article Tommy Lee Net Worth. The A's lease at the decrepit Coliseum runs through 2024, and MLB has ruled out redevelopment. "I've seen it," Beane said. https://youtu.be/QCDtLvNqiu4 Final Words If you like the TV show "Billy Beane Net Worth," you'll want to check this out. Even if you don't like the term "Geeeeez," you'll find yourself saying it multiple times throughout this show about a celebrity and his finances. It also has excellent visuals and intriguing animation effects. Watch it right now if you haven't and let me know what you thought of it in the comments if you did. You may easily spend a few hours enjoying it. If you liked this article, follow our website, serveupdate.com, and don’t forget to follow our social media handles.   Read the full article

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 7

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Hallowe’en chaos.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

After trivia night, Emily Prentiss found her world had shifted slightly. 

For the first time in her life, she had a friend group: a consistent presence of not only just Derek and the occasional Hotch, but also Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia and most importantly, Jennifer Jareau. 

Emily noticed it most in the dining hall. Most mornings this semester, she would grab coffee and maybe an apple on her way to class. Now, she was invited to breakfast in the caf. And everyone was also invited, so the six of them began eating not only breakfasts together when their schedules lined up, but soon that melded to include dinners and the odd lunch between classes. While Penelope initiated at the beginning, soon this became a routine. 

While they were all busy, and driven people, all with full course loads, extracurriculars and miscellaneous commitments, they managed to get the whole team together multiple times that week. 

A few times, extra faces joined them. Penelope’s friend from class, Kevin… something, joined for a lunch on Wednesday. He sat shyly as Derek stared him down the entire time. On Thursday, somehow Hotch convinced their Criminology TA, David Rossi, who was part time Masters Student and part time weed dealer, to have lunch with the bribe of them using their guest pass so he could get a free meal. He reluctantly acquiesced, but seemed to enjoy himself. On Friday, the day before Halloween, Emily brought Tara Lewis, the MC from the Trivia night that was two years ahead of her in criminology, they ran into each other in the quad, recognizing each other. This open door policy made these dinners fun, with new faces alongside their team.

This was all new for Emily. Not having friends, that is, because Emily could always muddle along with some friends, and when she was younger she shaped herself easily into whatever the popular kids wanted her to be. No, it was new because it was so easy. The team, as they now called themselves as a shorthand, had fallen together so effortlessly. 

Today was Halloween and they had plans at Dave’s student house, the shabby place that she had ran into JJ, Penelope and Spencer all that time ago. Had it only been a month? She felt like she had known them all for lifetimes by now. 

It happened that way with Derek last year, the whole living together thing sped up that connection. Intimacy comes fast when you brush your teeth next to someone. 

Emily was sitting at her desk, finishing up her makeup. She was aiming for a vampire, which wasn’t hard given her previous fashion aesthetic. 

Yes, Emily did have a goth phase. She will admit it. Not to her new friends just yet, and Derek had been sworn to secrecy. She was now a much more toned down goth, more alt than goth, wearing mostly black but significantly less chains and make up. 

Tonight, she wore her fishnets, a short black dress and a cape that was already tied around her shoulders. She had put a slightly too pale foundation on her face, down her neck, and was currently working on her eye liner. She carefully created elegant swoops over her lashes, coming to sharp points. 

Next, she added a deep red lipstick. Blood red. It was all very spooky. 

Finally, she struggled to test out the fake teeth insert that she had ordered online, slipping it over her top teeth. It fit surprisingly well. 

“Happy Halloween,” she said to herself, testing out whether or not she had a lisp. She did. She didn’t care. It was perfect. 

Emily did a couple of spins in the mirror on the back of the door. Turning off the overhead light, she looked at herself in the glowing light of her string lights. 

She was satisfied. She looked like a hot vampire. 

She grabbed her tote bag, which was filled with six miscellaneous beers and coolers that she had leftover from the last few weeks, knowing that she hated the cheap hoppy beer that Rossi would have at his party. 

Emily was picky about her alcohol.

She glanced out the window, considering taking an extra layer. It was dreary outside, with the sky an eerie green and powerful gusts of wind rattling the window. Emily grabbed her leather jacket. 

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and draping her coat over her arm, Emily peeked out of her door, looking out into the hall. In both directions were students in costume; she spotted a Frankenstein, a couple of cats and even someone dressed up in an inflatable t-Rex suit. 

She made sure her door was locked and then walked down the hall to Derek’s room, who was at the very end of the hall, as he had lucked out and got a massive room with lots of windows, across from the showers. 

She opened the door, finding just about all of their friends already there, sneakily drinking out of mugs, cups and water bottles. 

Reid was a zombie, wearing tattered, bloody clothes and a full face of makeup that Emily assumed that Penelope did for him. Sitting next to his computer, queueing music for their pre, was Derek, dressed in a baseball jersey and hat, apparently as a baseball player. This was expected, he wasn’t big on Halloween. Hotch was… a devil? He wore all black and simply had devil horns on his head. Low commitment but the spirit was there. 

Emily hoisted herself onto Derek’s bed and greeted her friends. 

Spencer was sneaking up behind Derek, peeking his head over his shoulder. Derek, at that moment, seemed to be texting, squinting down at his phone. 

“I’m going to eat you!” Spencer yelled into Derek’s ear, causing the larger man to jump to his feet, swatting at the boy in his fright. 

Emily laughed at her friend’s distress. He really didn’t like Halloween that much. 

“Are you ready for a spooktacular evening?” Spence asked, making his voice wobbly as he put on a dramatic effect. He shone an orange, pumpkin patterned flashlight under his chin.

“Of course,” Emily lisped, “In fact, I vant to drink your blood!”

She lunged forward, and Spencer hid from her behind Derek. It was silly but she could tell how much he liked Halloween, he had talked about it all week, and she couldn’t help but adopt a lispy vampire voice to go with her costume. Though the boy was only two year younger than them, his thin frame and wide eyed expression made him seem much younger. 

“Your teeth are excellent,” Spencer pointed out, “Very realistic.”

“I don’t get the hype about Halloween,” Derek said, “Disguises? Pass. Horror movies? No thank you.”

“Booooooo,” Emily protested, “Don’t be a buzzkill, Morgan. Let us have a little fun.”

The door opened again, and Penelope, followed by JJ, joined them. 

“Is my statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder being lame again?”

“He barely dressed up,” Emily complained.

“Neither did Hotch!” Derek said, gesturing to Hotch’s devil horns. 

“Hey, at least I bought these at the party store,” Hotch said, “I’m sure both of those are items from your own closet.”

Derek did not confirm or deny this. Emily knew he wore the same get up last year.

“So when should we be there?” JJ asked.

She was dressed as a witch, with an oversized pointy hat perched on top of her head, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in perfect curls. She wore a purple dress and tall boots to go with her witch look. She and Penelope joined Spencer on the floor, sitting with their backs to Derek’s closet and cracking open a beer for JJ and a fruity cooler for Penelope. 

With large wings, glittery make up and an adorable skirt, Penelope was clearly dressed up as a fairy, which was entirely apropos to who she was as a person. In fact, it was not entirely dissimilar from her normal outfits. 

“Rossi said to come by eight,” Hotch said, “So in party talk he means nine-thirty earliest.”

“It’s, what?” Derek checked the time on his laptop, “Eight fifteen now, so we can pre here for an hour or so then start walking over.”

“Yeah,” Hotch said, “His house is just off campus.”

“The weather is crazy out,” Penelope said, looking out the window. The trees were swaying and the leaves were blowing everywhere.

“We could take a cab?” Emily offered, “I’d rather avoid getting leaves in my hair tonight.”

There were some nods, then they got back to preing, playing a few rounds of King’s Cup to ensure that all of them were sufficiently drunk before they left.

Morgan put on his new playlist, not “For The Boys (and emily)” this time, but one titled “Team Vibez” that Emily had seen him make during their lecture on Thursday. It had a lot of his normal songs, some top hits, but a few fun pop songs that Emily knew he added for Penelope, and even some classic rock for Hotch. 

At this point, Emily was feeling buzzed. She had two cans discarded in the bin, both hosting lipstick prints from her dark red vampire lips. 

JJ was currently chatting with Hotch about some student government scandal that was happening at the time. While politics gave Emily the heebie jeebies, she had reluctantly joined the Criminology Academic Society. It would give her a leg up on grad school applications, for one, and so far, even as a low-level member, she found she was actually making a difference for her classmates. This meant that Emily, despite her deepest urges to not touch political scandals with a ten foot pole, knew exactly what they were talking about.

As the two discussed the student politicians—there were some minor accusations of nepotism, embezzlement and coverups by the undergraduate executive—Emily looked at JJ. Her brows were furrowed in concentration and she was gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked about how badly they were handling their crisis communications. 

Suddenly, interrupting this discussion, their phones blasted out a siren, followed by a chorus of the same robot voice announcing an emergency alert.

“National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 10:15PM EST,” the robot announced, “Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building.”

They looked at Derek’s three, large windows, and watched as large gusts of wind sent leaves barrelling down the street.

“If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris,” it continued. “Check media.”

Then, their phones went silent and Derek’s music continued unheeded. 

“A tornado?!” Penelope said, “Here?”

The window rattled. Derek stood up and hesitantly moved away from it. 

Penelope grabbed Derek’s computer, her hands moving in a flurry.

“Ok so,” she began, “from what I can gather from the good old Internet, we’re in a region of extreme winds and the meteorologists are thinking that funnel clouds and tornados are possible this evening.”

“So much for Halloween,” Spencer whined. 

“Party is definitely off,” Hotch said. “We should probably take shelter. Is there a basement here?”

“There’s the laundry room?” Emily said. 

Adrenaline started pulsing through her veins. She’d been through some severe weather before in her life but never a tornado, nor did she expect one. They were in the north east, nowhere near tornado Alley. 

They all stood, making a move for the basement, when the lights flickered once, twice, then shut off entirely. Rain begin to fall down, hard onto the windows, and the boom of thunder filled their ears. 

“Shit,” Emily said. “Anyone have a candle?”

 ---

Ten minutes later, the six of them were seated in a circle, on the strange carpeted floor of the laundry room, with the severe weather making the wind howl outside. Between JJ’s two candles, which were very against the rules, and Derek’s laptop screen, they had enough ambient light to see, but it was all very spooky. 

The room smelled damp and earthy, with a strange combination of laundry soaps and dryer sheets. They had to move a spare sock to form a circle around the candle. It looked very much like a séance, so that did fit the Halloween spirit. 

“Well,” Hotch said, “At least this is festive.”

Derek was still queuing his music, filling the silence with his DJ skills. 

“Aren’t you worried about your battery life?” JJ asked, “What if the power doesn’t come on in the morning.”

“Then I have a great excuse not to finish my essay,” Derek said with a shrug.

“Fair point.”

“Anyways,” Derek continued, “No sense giving up on our party. We have drinks, we have music and thanks to JJ we have illegal candles.”

“They’re not illegal!” She protested, “Simply very against res rules! I like lighting a candle while I study.”

“It’s lucky that there was no one left in res because of Halloween,” Emily said. “Or we would've had a bunch of party crashers.”

“This is better,” Penelope, “Team bonding!”

“What should we play?” Hotch said, “we don’t really have much to work with.”

“This is all very high school,” Penelope said, “A couple of kids, in a basement, sitting in a circle on the floor…”

“With a tornado tearing through our city…” Emily quipped. 

“Statistically speaking for this region we are more likely to experience dangerous winds rather than an actual tornado. Worst case is that fallen tree branches hit power lines, or fall onto houses or cars.”

“So you’re saying that we’re in the worst case scenario right now?” Hotch said. 

“Yup.”

Hotch frowned. 

“How about we play truth or dare?” Penelope changed the subject.

“I’m down,” Emily said, surprising herself. “If everyone else is.”

“I’ve never played!” Spencer said.

“Never?” JJ asked. “Not at any sleepovers.”

“I didn’t get invited to many sleepovers.”

“Neither did I,” Emily admitted, “Some parties I went to played it too.”

JJ looked at her, there was a brief look of sympathy, and then understanding on her face. Emily made note of that. 

“I guess we’re playing,” Hotch murmured. 

“Derek,” Penelope purred, “Mon cher, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he said defiantly, bracing himself with a swig of whatever was in his water bottle.

“Who is the prettiest fairy in the basement?”

“You, of course,” he replied with a wink. 

“Gross!” Emily exclaimed, “Truth or dare is not for flirting. Hotch: truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“Show us the… most embarrassing photo of you on your phone.” 

He frowned. 

“I don’t take many photos.”

“Try,” Emily urged with a laugh. 

He fumbled in his pockets, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his photo album for a few minutes. 

“It’s from high school,” Hotch said with a sigh. “I was in a play.”

He held up a photo of him in a pirates outfit, he looked smaller, younger than he did now. His hair was shaggy and his face rounder. He was pointing the sword at the camera. 

“Who’s the girl?” JJ asked. 

“My girlfriend Hayley,” Hotch said, “we’re long distance now. I joined the play to get close to her and it seems to have worked.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” Penelope said, “that’s adorable. Try again.”

“Oh I have one!” Emily said, pulling up her Snapchat memories. She had a photo of him conked out in a lecture last year. His mouth was open and his head conked back, fast asleep in a dimly lit lecture hall. Emily had taken a series of these photos before waking him up. 

“Now that’s what i'm talking about,” Derek said. 

“How can you fall asleep during lecture?” Spencer asked in horror. 

Hotch shrugged. 

“I was tired, we had a game the night before,” Hotch said. “Morgan: Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I don’t know any dares,” Hotch looked around for help. 

“He could play the tinder game?” Emily said. 

“What tinder game?” 

“Oh that’s a good one,” JJ said, “Derek opens tinder and we randomly tell him which way to swipe and see who he matches with.”

Derek groaned. Opening the app and placing it down onto the carpet. 

“Right!” JJ said to start. 

A match.  

“Left?” Hotch said, it came out more like a question. 

“Right,” Emily said. Another match. 

Left, right, left, right. New message from a recent match, left, right, right, right, right. Derek looked on in horror. 

“Ok I think he’s had enough,” Emily said with a laugh. 

“Derek it’s your turn,” Penelope said. 

Derek sighs in relief. 

“Uhhh, Pretty Boy,” he turned to Reid. Thinking for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”

“Smoked what? Cannabis, tobacco? Something else. Be specific.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. 

“I dunno man,” Derek said, “I was talking about weed but go off.” 

“I have.”

“How?” JJ said, “You’re like sixteen! I haven’t even smoked weed.”

“Me neither,” Penelope said, sounding outright disappointed. 

“I believe it,” Hotch said. “He has a Juul.”

“Seventeen now,” Spencer said. “Kids in my first degree found it funny when I performed actions that they deemed mature for my young age. 

“What?” Penelope said. “But you were sixteen last week.”

“It was my birthday on Wednesday,” he said. 

“And we missed it?” JJ asked.

Emily decided not to inform them that her birthday had been a few weeks back as well. 

“It’s no big deal,” Spencer said, “I don’t really do birthdays.”

“Well I do birthdays!” Penelope said, “and you’re getting one.”

Emily could see the gears turning in Penelope’s head.

“Wait you haven’t smoked weed?” Emily said. She didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but hell, it was college. 

“I’ve never been offered,” Penelope said with a shrug.

“You have a Juul, Spence?” JJ said. 

He shrugged. 

“Anyways,” Derek said with a laugh. “Reid it’s your turn to ask.”

And the game continued roughly the same for a few more rounds, with some truths, some dares, a lot of drinking and a fair amount of laughter. 

Emily learned that JJ likes some angry rock music when she’s upset, that Penelope has committed several federal crimes, that Reid used to coach basketball in high school, that Derek has been posing nude for art classes on campus for extra cash, and that Hotch has never successfully completed a word search in his life. 

The dares were limited, because frankly they were basically hiding out in a basement during what might actually be a tornado. Emily was dared to do an impression of Hotch, which wasn’t good and involved a lot of eyebrows and frowning. After, JJ was forced to leave her snapchat at Garcia’s mercy for the entire night. Other dares involved dancing, attempting gymnastics, and seeing whether or not Reid fit into the dryer. He did. 

The game finally had played out when it was Hotch’s turn again to ask. 

“JJ, what’s your greatest fear?” Hotch asked.

“Mr. Serious over here,” Derek said with a whistle. 

“Probably the woods,” JJ replied. 

“Why?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. 

JJ grabbed a candle, holding it under her chin much like Reid did earlier. 

“I used to be a camp counselor, when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont.”

She leaned forward. Emily didn’t know she worked at a camp. It made sense. She pictured her in a camp t-shirt making a bracelet. It suited her. 

“I had the night shift. I tucked the girls in, turned off the lights. The typical drill. Everything seemed fine; all the kids were asleep. You know, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

Another dramatic pause, both Spencer and Derek had leaned in, invested in the story. 

“Until I noticed there was some blood, on the hallway floor. So, I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying there, underneath his covers. Dead!”

Penelope gasped. The room was silent.

“Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall. I just remember it… being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there. I guess she heard me scream.”

JJ set the candle down, looking at the flame flicker. This couldn’t be real, Emily thought, this had to be a joke. 

“They caught the caretaker on his way to town, I guess he still had the knife on him.” 

“Anyway, I guess that’s probably when I decided I didn’t like the woods.”

“You’re serious?!” Derek demanded. 

“No!” JJ said with a laugh. “You bought that! I’m kidding!”

“So are you afraid of the woods?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, “They’re spooky I don’t know.”

They all laughed at that. 

Emily glanced at her phone; they had been down here for almost two hours. According to Penelope’s intermittent checks on the status of the extreme weather, most of the city was experiencing black outs, but there was no sign of an actual tornado. They were still supposed to take shelter for the next hour or so, just in case. 

In this time, Emily was close to five drinks in, with only one left in the basement. A growing pile of empties had built up around them, and Hotch had pulled out a small bottle of whiskey in addition to his beer, passing it around the circle. Having recently turned 17, the group had officially decided to give Spencer a beer, which he nursed slowly, wincing at the bitter taste. 

“Emily,” JJ turned to her and looked mischievous. “Truth or dare?”

She felt her heart flutter.

“Truth.”

“Hmmm…” JJ said, “Where was the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Emily found herself blushing at the memory.

“Oh god,” Emily buried her face in her hands. “IHOP parking lot.”

“What?”  

Emily nodded, downing the last of her beer. 

“No further questions,” she proclaimed as she opened her next drink.

“I think that should conclude Truth or Dare,” Penelope said, “It’s time for another sleepover classic, since some of you are sleepover virgins.”

She grabbed Derek’s water bottle, plopping it down onto the carpet and spun it. 

“Spin the bottle!”

Emily went pale. What was Penelope doing? She stared into her drunk, not daring to look at anyone else. 

“That doesn’t seem very sanitary,” Spencer said.

“Boo,” Penelope, “You’re no fun. It’s a classic! And we’re all friends, it’ll be fun. Hotch you spin first.”

He looked horrified, but took the bottle. There was no getting in the way of Penelope Garcia’s will.

“The rules are simply: kiss or you have to finish your drink?,” Penelope said, “Got it?

Hotch nodded, he spun the bottle. It went around the circle, once, twice, three times, then landed clearly on himself.

“How do I kiss myself?” he said, deadpan. 

“Drink!” Emily told him. He downed his last beer.

Derek spun next, rubbing his hands together nervously as it went around and around. It landed on Penelope.

“Come here, chocolate thunder!” 

Derek took his baseball cap off, turning it backwards. Penelope pulled his shirt towards her, tugging on him as their lips met. They both closed their eyes, she could hear JJ giggle at the sight.

“Was that the only reason we’re playing this?” Spencer asked, “So that you could kiss Morgan?”

“Maybe?” Penelope, “What’s it to you, boy-genius!” 

He put his hands up in surrender, it was his turn. 

He spun the bottle awkwardly, so that it rocked back and forth in addition to spinning. It went around once before landing on JJ.

Emily wasn’t sure what to think about that. On one hand, he was just a kid and the kiss wouldn't be anything, but on the other hand, Emily was jealous that she didn’t get a kiss. 

“Come here, Spence!” JJ said, making a grabbing motion at the boy and laughing. 

He leaned in with his eyes closed, Emily wouldn’t be surprised if he told them he hadn’t done even this before. JJ put a hand on his face, turned it gently, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Derek clapped him on the back and made a comment about it being ‘pretty boy’s first kiss,’ and Reid simply sat and blushed as he busied himself with drinking some of his beer. 

Emily’s turn. She tried not to cross her fingers and pray for JJ, but it happened anyways. It landed on Derek. Emily sighed dramatically.

“Ewwww,” Emily mock protested.

“Come on, princess,” Derek jeered, “You know you want some of this!”

He lifted his t-shirt up and rubbed his hands down his abs.

“Put that away sir!” she covered her eyes. 

“Oh come here,” she said, leaning in. They kissed on the lips with a loud ‘mwah!’ noise. 

“That was cute,” Hotch commented.

Emily fake gagged, while Morgan tried to wipe her red lipstick off him. 

Last was JJ in the circle. She spun it casually. Emily tried to read her facial expression, wondering if JJ, too, wanted it to land on Emily.

See, Emily was starting to believe that JJ liked her back. She was single, and for all Emily knew, she was straight, but the more Emily got to know her, she got queer vibes. She played soccer! Her nails were short and- 

Emily couldn’t think of any other things that moment, as she was currently freaking out about the spin the bottle situation that was presently unfolding. 

The moment in the bathroom, Emily thought, that was something! The way she looked at Emily… she was sure that she felt JJ’s eyes on her linger. 

The bottle landed on Emily. They had to kiss. It was part of the game.

Holy shit. 

Penelope squealed and Emily could feel the entire room's eyes on her, except JJ whose eyes were on the ground. 

Emily could hear her heartbeat. She desperately wanted to kiss JJ but did she want to under these circumstances? For a dare? 

JJ looked at her. Blue eyes staring into brown. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears. She found herself leaning forward, only slightly. JJ did the same. Her lips parted, her eyes hungry.

Emily shifted forward, she sat with her legs tucked under her, bracing herself with her arms. JJ was cross legged, her arms free to grab at her face. JJ’s hands tugged her forward.

Their lips met. 

It was uncertain, chaste, soft. Then, JJ’s hands pulled her closer. They were pressed together, heads tilting so that their noses didn’t bump.

Jennifer Jareau was kissing her. They were kissing!

Emily’s brain short circuited. JJ filled her senses; the blonde’s vanilla perfume and soft lips and the taste of alcohol on her tongue. 

Oh god, her tongue. 

Emily did not want it to end. Their mouths opened and their tongues slid against each other, feeling so perfect and sending Emily’s blood racing away from her face and noticeably south. 

JJ was incredibly hot and Emily desperately wanted to do more than kiss her. Or kiss her like this forever. Her ams were caressing her cheek and tangled in Emily’s hair, pulling her closer.

The lights flickered on; they had power, again. JJ pulled away from her, sharply. 

Emily sat back, sitting up straight. The room was luckily too distracted by the lights to notice how out of breath Emily was. Or that they probably shouldn’t have passionately made out on a dare. 

JJ wouldn’t meet her eye, but Emily could see her own lipstick on the other girl’s lips. Emily blinked at the bright light, started by the sudden return of the electricity after she had become accustomed to the dim light of the candle.

“What impressive timing,” Spencer murmured.

Taking the lights as a good sign, Penelope checked on the emergency alert. It was over and they were safe to go back upstairs. She found out that a few downed trees were the cause of the outage and there was never an actual tornado. No one was hurt but there was a bit of property damage throughout the city. 

Without the atmosphere of the candle light, and the likelihood of a RA doing a check of the building, they decided that that was the end of their party. They gathered up their empties, and blew out the candles.

As they finished up cleaning, all making sure not to leave any trace of their illicit affairs, Emily tried to quell her racing heart and blushing face, completely unable to look anyone in the eye. 

The door opened, their RA was there. Erin Strauss. She was a hardass.

“What are you all doing down here?” she demanded. 

They all stood, stock still, jaws dropped, smelling of alcohol and clutching clinking tote bags. 

“Erin,” Emily said, trying to sound as sober as possible despite the five plus drinks in her system, “We were simply following the directions on the emergency alert.”

“Yes! It said to seek shelter from the storm and the basement seemed the best for that,” Penelope said. 

“Uhuh,” Erin said, “What’s in the bag?”

The bag clinked. 

“Oh just some garbage,” Emily said, lying through her teeth. “We had some snacks.”

“Sure,” Erin said, not believing them. 

Emily tried not to sway, but did not feel steady on her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or her recent kiss with JJ.

For a second, Emily was sure that their RA would bust their asses, but the girl simply sighed and told them to go to bed, muttering about how dealing with non-existent tornadoes wasn't part of her job.  

The six of them scurried upstairs, all freaked out about their near-miss with a write-up.

Reid disappeared up to his room, then JJ and Penelope walked down the hall to their’s. Emily slipped into Derek’s avoiding Erin Strauss’ watchful eye, helping Derek steady a very drunk Hotch.

Hotch, who had probably had a little too much of that whiskey, stumbled into Derek’s room and decided to sleep on the floor. Emily placed a water bottle next to him, and placed him in recovery position, glad for the distraction from the blush that refused to leave her face or the lingering taste of JJ on her lips. 

She walked slowly down the hall back to her own room, the events of that evening playing back in her mind. She threw herself onto her bed, dazed by her situation. 

Emily fell asleep with vampire make up still on her face that night. 

[artemisspelledits]

Yea or Nay?

Word Count: 3,600

Description: A short story I wrote for a college writing class that I’m super proud of. It isn’t related to any fandoms, so any similarities are coincidental. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: It gets pretty graphic at one point, so just be aware.

................................................................................................................................

Sophie was hosting a tea party. She had six guests sitting at her rich mahogany table, all of whom had complimented her hosting and tea making abilities. She was an attentive hostess, refilling cups and supplying more biscuits as needed.

Charlotte peered through the thick one-way window, watching the six year old play. She chuckled as Sophie lifted her imaginary teapot to offer more delicious tea to “Mr. Green.” Mr. Green laid propped up against a wad of clothing, wooden face frozen in an exuberant smile. Sophie had insisted on making all her toys herself: popsicle sticks tightly wound in strips of her bed sheets, originally eliciting a scandalized gasp from the maid who maintained the wing. For the faces of her toys, Sophie had requested specific colored markers in order to scrawl their features. She had constructed more than the ones she was currently playing with; extras were stashed under her mattress. When Charlotte had asked why she didn’t play with them, Sophie giggled like it was the most obvious answer. She explained, “I’m gonna play with them someday, I just haven’t met them yet!”

 Touching the smooth glass, Charlotte felt wistful, but not for herself. Sophie had started from nothing but had so much potential. Sophie radiated power; anyone who was in tune with the magic of the world could feel it. Charlotte herself first felt Sophie’s aura before she even met her.

It had started as a scream, echoing though the street like a shockwave. Charlotte cocked her head, instantly aware that something was not right. Another scream followed the first, more desperate this time. She started running towards the sound, feet pounding though stinking puddles and through piles of trash. As she rounded a corner, she felt an impact that felt physical. She stumbled, sprawling into a mound of debris, under the impression some hard object had struck her in the chest. Reeling from the impact, Charlotte recognized the minty flavor of magic.

Slightly stunned, she saw a man in a grimy green sweater viciously dragging a small girl. She was screaming, and rightfully so, as he had her by the hair and was ferociously twisting his fist. Before Charlotte could regain her footing and help the child, the girl ceased her wailing. She had stopped thrashing and was looking directly at her captor. Confused by the sudden lack of struggle, the man looked down at the girl. Her neck twitched to the side, briefly touching her rag-covered shoulder. His neck followed suit, just at a much more violent pace. An arc of blood spurted from the spot his vertebrae had ripped through his skin, his eyes bright with shock. His grip loosened on the girl and she stood. His body had not yet realized this was the end and remained upright for much longer than Charlotte would have anticipated. As his body collapsed into a rubbish heap, Charlotte heard the girl let out a small chuckle. The girl then swayed, knees buckling, and joined the man in crumpling to the ground.

Now in a panic, Charlotte rushed to the scene, horrified at the sight of a large pool of blood blooming from the man’s mangled neck.

“Gone. He’s gone,” Charlotte whispered, hyperventilating at the display.

Adrenaline gushing through her system, she hastily removed her outer jacket and crouched to wrap the girl in it. She was so small, so frail, like a baby bird. Her matted hair was packed with dirt, her cheekbones so prominent it was clear she was malnourished, and her clothing threadbare and disintegrating. The girl moaned softly in obvious pain.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’ll help you, I’ll get you help.”

The words tumbled out of Charlotte’s mouth without her realizing what she was saying, only hoping to provide some kind of solace to the child. Quivering, she rose to her feet. Briefly glancing at the dark figure of the dead man, Charlotte turned and dashed away, clutching the small form of the girl to her chest.

That was two months ago. Charlotte brought the girl to her place of work, The Headquarters of Magical Testing and Enforcement, to have her tested, seeing as the girl had abilities. The Headquarters of Magical Testing and Enforcement, or HMTE, regulates, tracks, and trains magic use and magical families. Charlotte knew the HMTE would provide answers to the mystery girl she had found that day.

However, it was a bit of a debate as to whether they were legally allowed to perform testing on this girl. Seeing as she was a minor and could not legally give consent, as well as no family had come with her, it was a topic of heated discussion as to whether or not to test her. The Board of Directors came to the agreement that they would do rudimentary testing, just to lay the foundation of knowledge and to see if there were any blood relatives to notify.

The results of this simple test baffled the lab workers. The sample of blood extracted from the girl came back AB negative: exceptionally rare. The only recorded people to have AB negative blood were part of three powerful bloodlines, all of which have been extinct for at least seven generations. The HMTE owns the most extensive and detailed histories of family bloodlines, so it was unheard of for the company to have a shock like this. Obvious questions were raised: Who is this girl? Where did she come from? How is she here? Who are her parents?

More extensive tests were ordered, including a comparison of her DNA to the three bloodlines to which she could potentially belong. She was found to be a match with the most imposing of the three, the Drakter bloodline. Descendents of this particular lineage were more likely to have multiple powers, abilities that were not seen in other family members, as well as an overall increase in control and force of their magic.

With this knowledge, HMTE and Charlotte both knew they were dealing with something extraordinary. No one had interacted with the girl while she was conscious, seeing as she was still unresponsive from her encounter with the man in the alley. Charlotte stayed by her side as much as she could, waiting as the days turned into a week since she brought the girl in.

Finally, the girl awoke. She was initially frightened by her surroundings, panicked breath filling her tiny lungs. Charlotte was there in an instant, attempting to soothe the frightened child. Eventually, Charlotte became the only one who could calm the girl when she was having a fit. Charlotte learned the girl’s name was Sophie, not Sophia. Charlotte had accidentally said “Sophia” one day and paid the price by being hurled into the wall, all while Sophie was screaming and crying. From then on, Charlotte respected Sophie’s choice of name.

Charlotte began teaching Sophie how to read and write, and it was clear the child was exceedingly bright. Sophie squealed in delight when she first scrawled her name in squiggly six-year-old writing. She loved arts and crafts as well as singing along to songs Charlotte taught her, eventually falling asleep to the tune.

Charlotte smiled at the memories. A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie. Turning from the serene picture of the tea party, Charlotte greeted the interruption.

“Benjamin! I’m glad you could make it! How long has it been?” Smiling widely, she shook his hand.

“Long enough for me to finally have gotten my PhD! So five, six years now?” He laughed, curly hair bouncing with the movement.

“Well then, I should use your proper title,” doing an over-the-top genuflect, she declared, “Doctor Benjamin Lewis!”

“Why thank you, Miss Charlotte Moone,” he returned with an equal amount of flair. “Now, what is your proper title? I hear you’ve risen through the ranks as well!”

Clearing her throat from her fit of giggles, she managed to reply, “Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement, member of the Board of Directors, and Senior Operations Consultant, although I get mislabeled enough that one would think I’m just a desk worker!”

“So serious. And so much! That’s a lot for even you, and I remember you taking so many classes in college that you had to talk to the higher-ups to get your schedule permitted!”

“Yes, well I think my mental state has improved since college, so I’ve progressed,” she chuckled. “Anyway, now that we’ve caught up, to the subject at hand!” She clapped her hands and gestured to the girl. “This is Sophie, I’m sure you’ve heard about her and her power, seeing as you’re the resident nerd on this topic.” Charlotte snuck a sly look in Benjamin’s direction that he returned by sticking out his tongue. “She’s been fundamentally tested to measure her abilities, and the results came back like none we’ve ever seen. It turns out she’s a part of the Drakter lineage.” This statement elicited a small squeal of excitement from Benjamin. “Seeing as she’s a Drakter, little Sophie is one of the most powerful beings on earth, and as an adult, she will indubitably be number one. She seems to not understand or know her strength, having lashed out and accidentally hurt people before.” Charlotte thought back to the man in the alley and the bruise she sustained after being thrown against the wall. “She’s happy enough, enjoying make-believe games and normal six year old activities. You have been called because as an expert in the old bloodlines and their abilities, we need a more thorough examination in order to properly understand her future.”

More to himself than to Charlotte, Benjamin muttered something about being able to taste the magic through the walls and how that was impressive, especially for such young magic, scribbling on his clipboard of notes as he went. Nodding, Benjamin looked over the information and addressed Charlotte. “No parents? No known relations or anything that might help me?”

“Nope, she says she can’t remember her parents and we have scoured both records and the field for evidence of relatives. She’s as orphan as you can find them,” Charlotte paused, flexing her foot. “Will that be a problem? Should we run tests over again to see if anything new is found?”

“No, no, it’s just more of a challenge for me. Like a puzzle,” He looked up from his notes. “And boy do I love puzzles! I’ll do my usual questions; asking about interests, see how long she can use her magic, how long she’s known she’s magical, all that fun stuff. See if I can piece some things together to give HMTE something more to work with.”

Grinning at his childlike excitement, Charlotte felt reassured. Finally, answers. Benjamin grinned at his clipboard, then sharply sighed through his nose, as if to steel himself for his interaction with Sophie. Voice slightly giddy, he turned to Charlotte. “I’m like a six year old myself - I get to interact with a Drakter! Well, I better go in and do my examination!”

As he reached for the door handle, Charlotte remembered. “Ah ah ah, wait a moment. I forgot one thing. Do not call her Sophia. It’s the one thing she hates and will respond accordingly.” Answering the question carried by his gaze, she continued. “Sophie must have a negative relationship with the name ‘Sophia,’ enough to fling me into a wall for misnaming her. So just….don’t.”

“Duly noted.” Benjamin nodded curtly and pulled open the door.

Charlotte watched as he sat on the ground next to the girl. He introduced himself, shaking Sophie’s miniscule hand. She seemed to like him, seeing as she had offered him an imaginary teacup, from which he was taking a dainty sip.  

Sighing softly, Charlotte turned to the pile of busy work sitting on one of the chairs. She had brought these documents to pass time during the examination, and she did not want to leave Benjamin alone in case he had more questions. Charlotte resolved herself to her fate. Minutes passed as she marked form after form, signing here and initialing there.

Sudden motion and a muffled thump made her flinch. Looking up from her lap, Charlotte leaped to her feet, papers flying.  

A scene of chaos had erupted behind the glass. Benjamin had thrown himself onto the one-way mirror, palms splayed wildly against it. It was clear he was howling at the top of his lungs, yet Charlotte could hardly hear his screaming through the thick glass. His eyes wild with fear behind his skewed glasses, he pounded his fists upon the glass, breath fogging up the clear surface. Behind him, Sophie was looking straight up, eyes closed and face twisted into a smile. Slowly but with purpose, Sophie rose from the bundled up sheet that was her tea party table. Still smiling, she brought her head down, leveling her gaze on Benjamin that held the seething power of a wildfire.

“Oh no. Oh God, no!” A scream clawed its way from Charlotte’s throat, the sound enhanced by the barren white walls of the hallway. She was answered by shouts and the commotion of many pairs of feet charging towards her position.

Charlotte had seen that look on Sophie’s face but once before: the day she met her. Charlotte knew what was coming, but was incapable of moving. She mentally screamed for her muscles to budge, to let her intervene, but she had been fixed there against her will, not a nerve fiber twitching. Realization and horror crashed down on her. She was being forced to watch the scene unfold before her.  

The taste of magic hit her tongue as she became aware of this. Sophie was still standing motionless, mirroring Charlotte’s inability to move. Suddenly, Sophie warped her body, neck twisting up while her back arched and coiled to the left. Like some kind of morbid puppet, Benjamin copied her movements, fear still palpable in his eyes as he stared helplessly at Charlotte. He was lifted off the ground by the force of his body’s contortion. His neck suddenly became much too long, accompanied by a crack that Charlotte could hear through the glass. His spine followed, snapping in the middle of his back so that when he landed he was folded in half, nape of his neck touching his heels.

Charlotte felt herself regain control of her body, like an icy grip had released her muscles, yet she still couldn’t move. Eyes wide with shock, she let out a shriek of pure fear and revulsion. How could she have…why did she…? What happened? Charlotte lurched to the door of Sophie’s room, fumbling with the handle.

Flinging the door open, she rushed to Benjamin’s side, knowing it was folly to hope he was still alive but needing confirmation. His body was crumpled and broken, with a dark splotch of blood beginning to ooze from his abdomen and onto his shirt. What looked like splinters of rib poked through the fabric.

Retching at the sight as well as the overpowering acrid taste of mint that clung to the air, Charlotte turned her attention to Sophie. She skipped to her bed and thrust a small hand under her mattress, pulling out one of her extra popsicle stick characters. Returning to her tea party, she propped up the new guest next to Mr. Green.

“Thank you for joining us, Dr. Lewis, would you like some tea?”

Charlotte blanched. Dr. Lewis? She numbly strode to Sophie’s side, placing a quivering hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Who did you say your new friend was?” She couldn’t keep her voice from trembling.

“Dr. Lewis!” Sophie replied, looking up at Charlotte with a cheerful smile. Nothing like the psychotic smile she wore moments earlier when controlling Benjamin’s movements.

Time seemed to slow down. Behind Charlotte, people were pouring into the room, clamoring to see what had happened and why they had heard screaming a minute before. But Charlotte did not hear or heed their questions. It felt as though her heart and intestines had flipped places in her body. Her breath hitched as she realized the meaning of Sophie’s words. All her tea party guests…“Mr. Green”…that man who had been dragging her was wearing green. Oh God. This child, this six year old child, was a killer. Not just a killer, but a cold-blooded murderer.

Voice breathy with dread, Charlotte tried her best to remain calm. “Why did you do that to Dr. Lewis?” She gestured to Benjamin’s unmoving heap.

Her face darkening, lips pulling up into a snarl, Sophie spat her response.

“He called me Sophia.”

Dammit, Benjamin. Charlotte closed her eyes in a grimace, clenching her jaw. I told you not to…. But that was it? That was all it took for her to be pushed over the edge? To murder someone? The thoughts ran through Charlotte’s head as Sophie’s face betrayed no signs of emotion or regret for her actions.

“Do you feel bad about what you did to him?”

“No, he called me Sophia. And I didn’t want to talk to him anymore.”

Her answer was startlingly nonchalant, like she was discussing lampshades or the color of a house. Charlotte searched Sophie’s expression for a hint of remorse, finding none. Starting to hyperventilate, Charlotte clasped a hand over her mouth, attempting to fight the nausea that threatened to overtake her. She backed away from the child, colliding with co-workers as she fled the room.

                                       ----------------------------------

Every time Charlotte closed her eyes, those images would play against her eyelids. Benjamin’s crumpled body, his neck, Sophie’s maniacal grin, the new popsicle toy named Dr. Lewis. She couldn’t get them out of her head. It had been six days, but the memories were still fresh and crisp.  

An impatient voice cut through her thoughts.

“Miss Moone. I understand you have been through a traumatizing ordeal this past week, but you must focus on the task at hand.” It was the president of the company, irritation plainly visible on her plump features.

“Yes Mrs. President, I understand. I am sorry.”

“As I was saying, a problem has emerged that must be addressed. As members of the Board of Directors, it falls on us to make the appropriate decision, even if it is an unpleasant one.” She sighed, clasping her hands on the polished tabletop. “The girl in question. Sophie Drakter is extremely powerful, yes; however that power has only been observed to be used for nefarious purposes. If we are correct in believing Miss Moone’s deduction concerning Miss Drakter’s toys, she has taken the life of seven people. If this assumption is incorrect, the record still stands that Miss Drakter has killed two people.”

She looked around at the assembled six members. She sighed again. “It has come to this: we must vote. The options are as follows: exterminate the girl now to stop further destruction, or endeavor to control her abilities and hope she does not go down a dark path. There is justification for both arguments, including her age, the fact she is a Drakter, cost versus benefit analyses, time, and of course the overall impact of her power if she reaches adulthood. You will have ten minutes to arrive at your decision. You may talk amongst yourselves.”

Charlotte had known it would come to this. She had been thinking about her choice for the last six days. She desperately conferred with her fellow council members, and sooner than she thought possible, the president regained their attention.

The president cleared her throat. She did not look like she was going to enjoy this vote. “Say ‘yea’ if you agree with termination and ‘nay’ if you oppose.” She collected herself before continuing. “Yea. Ms. Lang?”

 “Nay.”

“Mr. Simmons?”

“Yea.”

“Mrs. Dunne?”

“Yea.”

“Mr. Barclay?”

“Nay.”

“Mr. Holcomb?”

“Nay.”

“Miss Moone?”

“…nay.”

This single word was followed with gasps of relief and fear. “She’s dangerous! How could you – She’s just a girl! Six years – She’s old enough to know – She’s a killer!” The president pounded a fist on the table top, calling for order.

“She is just a girl and she is a killer!” Charlotte’s voice had reached a pitch that couldn’t be ignored. “She lashed out in a way that was wrong, yes, but there was a reason for it!” A scoff came from across the room. Charlotte flung out a pointer finger and continued. “Yes! Laugh at me! But I know what it’s like! All the women on this council know what it’s like! To be mislabeled! To be belittled! To be brushed over! Sophie only reacted that way because she wasn’t given the proper respect! ‘Sophie’ not ‘Sophia’ was all she asked! Did Dr. Lewis know? Yes, I told him myself! Should he have died because of it? No! But she’s six! That means she’s malleable and can be changed! We can work on her anger and violence, but the lack of respect for her name is not something she can change.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Charlotte hated that she had to validate her decision. Her fellow board members had gone silent, half staring at her through slits for eyes, half nodding in agreement.

“I apologize. It’s just…she has so much potential. And I know there are changes that she needs to make, but so does our society. Mrs. President…” Charlotte deferred to her superior.

“Thank you, Miss Moone for your insight.” An eyebrow cocked, the president ended the meeting, addressing the gathered council. “Thank you for your attendance. You are dismissed.”

Charlotte exited the board room, filing out with her fellow board members, praying she hadn’t made the wrong decision.

[for-peace-war]

No, really. Lovecraft Country sucks.

These are spoilers, but I also don’t give a shit because it’s a bad show and I hope you skim enough to fucking skip it.  I took a few days to decide if I hated it enough to write this and well, I do. 

I will try my best not to say “X is a bad actor,” but instead stick with the characters as they’re intended save for one particular issue.

The Story

It isn’t very Lovecraftian.  And don’t take this as me saying Lovecraft was some kind of master of his craft.  I think he was an absurd racist that used xenophobia as his guise for what truly horrified the sane mind. That being said, the element of the unknown is definitely the hallmark of his world and that in no way is represented in this show.  It could easily be called “Goosebumps: The Black Version” and it’d be just as authentic--if not more so, really.

The story deals with the Bible (?) and magic that comes from uh, knowing the names of things.  You speak a made up language and then you do some kind of confusing magic that has no real purpose or point.  I sound dismissive of this because I am, to be clear.  They could have just as easily had this language be something whites stole from Africans and then perverted into their own means of power (it’d be a pretty easy parralel to any number of imperialist issues left behind in Africa, huh.)

But anyway, it has a tentacle monster. I think we see a big scary octopus at one point.  But the monsters are often in your face and it’s probably less scary than Stranger Things S1.

Honestly, the characters repeat “autumnal equinox” so much that I felt I was going to have a fucking breakdown.  Just the writing is very empty and no one seems to really care about anyone else on the screen except for in a rare moment between the only two characters that make it far and matter. 

Characters

They aren’t very good.  There are tropes present, which isn’t bad at all, but the way the characters interact, speak, and in general move us through the story feels stilted, often nonsensical, and entirely reliant on the viewer assuming that the latest sentence spoken is the only one that matters.

Atticus “Tic” Freeman

A war criminal that derives his power from the white blood inside of him. Again, dismissive but true.  We see this man struggle to connect pieces to a puzzle and eventually he pays the price for it, but not in the way Lovecraft would have someone pay for endeavoring beyond their realm.  Rather, something about fate and a book. Look, honestly? Who gives a shit.  Tic murders a woman in coldblood and it’s never really touched on.  There’s a lot that could be said about militaries, oppression, etc, but we often see these characters enact violence and then the story skips merrily beyond it.  So yeah, he summarily executes a Korean woman and then is later shown torturing another, but it’s okay because he feels a little bad and fucks the Korean sex demon woman.  More on that later.   I felt nothing for him.  He didn’t have some deep animus over being a torturing war criminal.  He was just kind of moving through scenes and having confusing fights with his girlfriend/baby mama.

Letitia “Leti” Lewis

This is what empowerment shouldn’t look like. It amuses me that the show claimed to subvert some kind of norms when the primary love interest (and ultimate heroine) remains the lightest skinned sister in the room.  She is able to maintain the appeal of the ingenue while at the same time having the understood attractiveness of her complexion. As far as Leti is concerned as a character, she too seems to be a pretty shitty person.  We hear that she has “transactional” friendships and she seems pretty much all about self-survival and rarely if ever puts up where others do.  She’s a heroine in the sense that the story makes her be heroic, but it never addresses how her flaws are ultimately all self-inflicted and unnecessary.  She could just not be a shitty person.

Hippolyta Freeman

Well. Hidden Figures was an excellent film, and I think that’s where Hippolyta came from.  In a more serious series, perhaps she and her daughter could have had a very touching arc that would deal with survival and exceptionalism in a world that maligns you for your very being.  Unfortunately, in reality she just comes off as a character that’s quirky in a world that’s also quirky and she doesn’t get to harness her power. There’s an entire episode dedicated to how she discovers who she is and the result is well, her hair turns blue and she makes robots?  I think the character TYPE is great, but they misused her here in all ways.

George Freeman

Well, well.  If the series had remained about George, Tic, and Leti adventuring through America and encountering sundown towns and monsters both human and otherwise, I think it’d have been okay.  The issue is, they wrote this series by the numbers so George is immediately thrown away.  He’s a wise and circumspect guy that has his own flaws (he has patrarchical notions built around protecting/babying his genius wife, clearly), but the flaws he has are understandable and well reasoned. George dies early on.  Then he sort of doesn’t, I guess? But the fact he did was really the nail in the coffin for this series.  The moment they did that, the rest just became empty strokes.  A story where George witnessed the others dying and going back to his wife and daughter would have had so much more heart to it, but well.  Uncle George is literally one of the few bright spots.

Ruby Baptise

Much like her sister, Leti, Ruby is a terrible attempt at showing empowerent on the one hand, and a masterwork on the other.  The bad first: she’s a rapist.  I’ve been called a nigger before and while it didn’t feel great, I don’t think I’d have been justified in just sodomizing the person that did it.  That entire sequence was weird and they tried to hype it as her reclaiming something, when really it spoke to a disgusting and gratuitous tendency toward Ruby: she’s always too much. Ruby, IMO, should have been Tic’s love interest.  In a sense.  First, because Wunmi Mosaku was a very attractive woman with impressive acting chops (she’s where I’ll break my moratirum, sorry), but also because it wouldn’t be what you’d see in every other show now: light-skinned pretty sister, dark-skinned sexual eikon.  And that’s the issue with Ruby there: she’s always too much.  She’s sexual by existing and that isn’t necessarily to her benefit since Leti, the good one, is an actual virgin before her sudden period sex. So the narrative has already spoken as to how it views sex. Yet, because they tried to give Ruby these strange strokes, she comes out as an interesting character.  She has feelings, aspirations, and dreams that she’s kept from and that’s very real. In a story about the absurd, a sense of realness is a familiar handhold to gather your wits.  She’s all that, really.  It’s why she has the best relationships in the show, which is AGAIN an issue, but well. I’ll say Ruby was never bad to have on screen though I was disgusted with how often her blackess (and Blackness in general!) became the source of grotesque horror.

Christina Braithewaite

This is where I get annoyed.  My issue with Christina is that she should have easily been the most hated character, but they overplayed their hand with not showing how nefarious she was.  In fact? Christina and Ruby’s relationship is the only meaningful, real, and understandable one in the entire series.  I felt no joy during her downfall, because I didn’t really get to see her doing anything bad? Just, consider what the show is.  It’s about Lovecraft’s lore, ostensibly, which treats all non (specific types of) white men like dogs.  So Christina comes at it from the “white” but “woman” perspective and you know, she has moments of duality that you can say is she more white or woman here.  But they don’t execute on how sinister she should be.  She’s a little rude at times? Yet she is the only person to treat Ruby like she should be treated and she’s the only person that seems to have a goal outside of “the quest.” It really bothered me that she came out so well done, because either they needed to have her for two seasons and make her far more nefarious after the first, or to just make her less a force for good.  She saves the characters more than a few times and pays for it by being killed when she’s at her lowest.  Yeah, it’s... a weird take.  

Ji-Ah

What can I say?  There are depictions of sex in the series, and they’re all negative: most of Ji-Ah’s scenes, Montrose’s angry self-loathing sex with his boyfriend, Ruby’s morphic horror scenes.  In the case of most of those, there’s something being said.  Ji-Ah is a monster, literally, that could be seen as Lovecraftian in the sense she’s an exotic Asian woman that kills men that sleep with her.  So, HBO was like “we’ll blow our tits and ass budget on her,” and she exists for a series of sex scenes and vague, inscrutable... shit, maybe SHE is the most Lovecraft of all the characters! Anyway at some point she joins the party after confusing drama with Leti because they both fucked Tic.  It’s okay though, because Ji-Ah isn’t here for any of that now.  She’s the one who had the best friend that had her teeth yanked out by Tic, and also who was there when he shot her other friend in cold blood, but they get over that and she’s now their friendly red panda pal or some shit.  It’s fucking trash.   Much like the Freemans (sans Tic), I think she’d have done great in another show. But they rushed her story and it felt less Ghost Nation (Westworld) and more Masturbation (Jordan Peele).

Diana Freeman

Confusing.  A stock character (quirky kid that does art, is impetuous, and won’t take no for an answer) that is given a lot of screen time.  When she sort of hijacks an episode when two ragamuffin girls chase her down and infest her or something because racist cops.  Well, the story veers to her direction.  What can I say?  If you like 11 from Stranger Things but wanted her to have Mike’s attitude, well.  Here you go.

Montrose Freeman

He could have been a good character, I guess. He seemed unnecessary and often was there purely for an x-factor of “uh?”  Like, his infamous scene where he slits a two-spirit Native American’s throat after we learn that this indigenous person had just been restored after being raped by bad guys.  So there’s that.  Also I guess he was self-loathing so he beat his son (that may not be his son???) and also liked fucking dudes, which was I think where we were supposed to care about him. It’s like someone saw Omar was a gun-wielding desperado of drug theft and decided, “Well what made him okay is he’s gay!”  But it didn’t add much.  I get he was angsty but other than Tic calling him a “faggot” (one of the few good scenes between them in terms of emotion), it all seemed empty and kind of meandering. At no point does Montrose seem a part of the team.  He just half-mumbles, gets angry, cries, and falls apart.

Captain Seamus Lancaster

He’s barely a character, but I need to include him for another point. He’s the “bad guy.”  I guess?  He uses the bodies of black men to stay alive, which is actually a really smart reference to black bodies fueling the American system, but it comes off as cheesy because it just never comes up.  He’s cartoonishly bad in a way that he’s less sinister than a meme.  Compare him to say,   Ridgeway from Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad. One’s a sinister representation of an oppressive system and the other’s well, a joke.

Racism

How could this not be a theme?  The issue, as was shown with Lancaster, is that it isn’t even remotely handled with seriousness.  The best scene of racism is in the first episode when Tic, George, and Leti are forced to leave a Sundown county before they’re lynched by the racist sheriff.  The anticipation and animosity lead to some serious anxiety and it was a nailbiter.

But after that?  White people say “nigger.”  Then they get, I don’t know, raped or spit on or who knows.  A lot of black people talk back to the cops anyway in the 50′s and that’s cool.

But the real monsters of the series are all black people.  Let’s go through it: 

Tic brutalized women in the Korean War.

Montrose killed the two-spirit person.

Ruby rapes the shop owner.

Diane crushes Christina’s throat.

Ruby literally sheds her flesh in repeatedly gratuitous acts of the grotesque.

Even Ji-Ah, who’s not black, is a monster in the literal sense.  We do see the doctor that experimented on black people, but that’s about 5 minutes at the end of an episode that has a baby’s head on a man’s body so I was too busy laughing at the absurdity to take any real meaning from it.

The truth is, in Lovecraft Country, white people always should do their best to kill or keep black people down.  It definitely doesn’t speak at all to any togetherness or what have you.  Just, well. Magical negroes doing bad stuff because nothing can stop them.

The show misses the chances to show real horror in race.  Hell, the Tulsa Riots are reduced to a backdrop for a confusing book scene.  But then again, Emmett Till becomes a kind of empty reference point that we then see a white woman act out... for some reason? 

Again, the only characters with any chemistry are Ruby and Christina, which is very unfortunate for any number of reasons. As far as a statement that racism is bad goes, I mean. I barely saw it.  If I was a racist I’d be like hell yeah, Lovecraft was right they are dangerous.

Even when people try to indicate the horrors of it like, “Oh, the Korean War scenes are bad because we see how men are forced into the military complex!”  We didn’t see a white officer say “Shoot her, boy,” it was just two black guys killing women with no care at all. And no compeuppance, so that’s cool.

The Music

Sucks.  Thanks Peaky Blinders for making modern music over gif sets a thing.

Conclusion

I sure as hell would never watch it again.  If I can get one other person not to, then maybe it’d be worth it. It’s not a good show.  It’s not “smart,” and there’s no secret subversion in it.  It’s just... bad.

I won’t post on it anymore.  Please, in true Lovecraft fashion, trust me when I say that this show is so bad it cannot be comprehended. 

[ducktracy]

175. speaking of the weather (1937)

release date: september 4th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (leopold stokowski, cholly jam, walter snitchall, dog), billy bletcher (prisoner, judge)

a frank tashlin directed merrie melody? yes, you’ve got that right! tashlin finally joins friz freleng and tex avery in directing the more expensive, prioritized merrie melodies. considering tashlin was so outspoken with his disdain for porky, i’m sure this was a breath of fresh air for him, finally able to use his talents elsewhere.

inspired by the early days of hugh harman and rudolf ising (as he himself conceded), tashlin makes his merrie melodies debut by sticking to a genre tried and true: books coming to life. tashlin would direct three of these, the other two being have you got any castles? and you’re an education. ironically, the latter would be his final WB entry in the ‘30’s, getting fired from the studio after an argument and then making his return in 1943 with the tour de force porky pig’s feat. for now, we’re treated with a variety of “books coming to life” gags--including a plot with an escaped convict.

open to the cityscape in the dark, a yellow clock face illuminating the silhouettes against the deep, blue, sky. the camera trucks out and pans over to a drug store, complete with that streamlined, frank tashlin look--these opening backgrounds are nothing short of gorgeous. the backgrounds in the tashlin cartoons, both black and white and in color, have always been some of my favorites. i’m not so sure who does the backgrounds in tashlin’s unit here, though i do know a man by the name of art loomer was in charge of the background department in the ‘30′s. the background artists didn’t get credits until the mid ‘40′s, so sometimes trying to identify them can be a bit of a guessing game. but i digress!

inside the pharmacy, we pan across the seemingly interminable magazine shelves. everything is coated in a dark shadow, until the camera focuses on a spotlighted magazine--radio stars, with musical comedian bob burns--labeled as “bob boins” on the magazine cover--playing the bazooka (a trademark of his) to the tune of “with plenty of money and you”. certainly a frequent tune in the 1937 cartoons! a nice, simple choice to do a close up of him playing the instrument and gasping for air--the solid yellow background really brings out the animation and makes it the priority, so that the audience isn’t distracted by extraneous details. plus, saves paint, saves money! 

after more strenuous playing, the bazooka breaks into pieces. segue into another close-up, the skillful, dynamic animation belonging to none other than bob mckimson, who was one of the studio’s best animators (if not best!) and later a director. the animation is strikingly realistic, perhaps even offputting--it looks quite similar to his animation of uncle sam in the terminally boring chuck jones cartoon old glory a mere two years later. burns tells us “y’know folks, i can’t play this bazooka as good as uncle fudd back in van buren. we know him as uncle fudd, you know him as ted lewis!” the uncle fudd bit is lost on me, but the van buren reference is a nod to bob burns’ title: the arkansas traveler. burns would often reminisce about family stories back in van buren, arkansas. coincidentally, frank tashlin worked at van beuren studios before rejoining the warner bros. staff as a director.

a clarinet toting lewis gives his trademark catchphrase of “is everybody happy?”, prompting ned sparks (known for his deadpan demeanor) to grovel “no!” in response. nevertheless, lewis launches into a rendition of “with plenty of money on you” on his clarinet, sparking an entire dance party from the magizines: a beaver from the cover of outdoor life strums the bass with its tail, a pair of silhouettes dance together on the cover of “[the] dance” magazine (as well as a pair of boxers from “the ring”), and two dandelions from “house and garden”, with animation reused from friz freleng’s 1935 short flowers for madame.

lewis ends his song by doing a variety of very smoothly animated acrobatics, including some wonderfully fluid animation of him twisting through his own legs. toys (reused from toytown hall, among other cartoons... perhaps as far back as the shanty where santy claus lives? it’s hard to keep these cartoons straight!) from child life magazine cheer him on, as do a jovial, giggling hugh hubert reused from the coocoo nut grove, all underscored by a brief rendition of “the merry go round broke down”. the number is complete as lewis takes a bow, with some nice animation of his coattails shaking their anthropomorphic fists in the applause.

elsewhere, more magazine gags: a snake charmer on the cover of “asia” magazine woos a hose on the cover of “better homes and gardens”, prompting it to dance and spit out water. the water rains down upon famed conductor leopold stokowski (who collaborated with walt disney in the making of fantasia a few years later), who dons the cover of “the etude”. the underscore is, fittingly, “september in the rain”, also the title of a friz freleng merrie melody just a few months later. stokowski opens up his sheet music: william tell’s “the storm”. pressing a button, a mini windshield wiper wipes away the raindrops from the music sheets. the rain animation is very well done, especially pooling on top of the music. my guess would be that this is A.C. gamer at work, warner bros.’ effects animator.

the decision to have silence (save for the sound effects of stokowski tapping his music stand and the rain) prelude the oncoming rendition of “the storm” is a powerful one indeed. stokowki directs with all his might, pulling his hair and moving spastically, mirroring the intensity of his music... and then comedic timing swoops in wonderfully well as he bursts into a slightly off tune rendition of the title song, “speaking of the weather”, sparking the music portion of the short. this is probably my favorite song that has a merrie melody in its honor--it’s very catchy, both the original version and the cartoon’s rendition!

quite a bit of animation is reused from previous cartoons in this one, but the decision to reuse animation from a tom palmer cartoon took me by surprise. three women (the boswell sisters) seated at a piano sing the chorus, reused from 1933′s i’ve got to sing a torch song. for those who don’t know, tom palmer lasted a never-ending stint of 2 cartoons at warner bros before getting fired on account of how poor his shorts were. he also introduced the world to buddy, the blandest studio mascot of all time, who dominated shorts from 1933-1935. thanks, tom! 

elsewhere, a caricature of lydia pinkham sings affectionately to a caricature of clark gable (reused from the coocoo nut grove), who cleverly dons the cover of “woman’s home companion” magazine. elsewhere, tongue sandwiches stick out their human tongues and “la la lala” along to the rhythm, reused from buddy’s beer garden. the tongue sandwich gag would be reused even as recently as bob clampett’s 1941 goofy groceries--for all i know, he could have been responsible for the original gag in buddy’s beer garden in the first place. you often have to take some of his claims of what he made with a grain of salt, but he did mention that he pioneered the whole “___ come to life” sequences at warner’s, so it serves as some food for thought! 

more gags include a teapot (reused from little dutch plate) whistling along to the rhythm, a caricature of greta garbo reading a book and using her shoes as a rocking chair, a dancing lobster whose frequented many cartoons, debuting in how do i know it’s sunday?, and clams clacking to the rhythm. as the song winds to an end, topped off with the cheering toys from earlier (as well as oddly segmented animation of hugh hubert jamming his fingers together in applause), a shifty looking crook (animated by volney white) furtively sneaks out of his post from “the gang” magazine. i LOVE the choice to slow down the beat of the music at the appearance of the gangster--the rhythm becomes much more furtive and cautious. 

more volney white animation as the gangster uses a spare blowtorch to burn off the front of a safe plastered on “the magazine of wall street and business”. pan over to a caricature of fictional detective charlie chan, telling the convict that he’s under arrest. the fade to the next scene obscures the animation, but there’s a nice little bit of animation as chan twirls his gun in satisfaction. next scene, the criminal (whose bellows are provided by none other than billy bletcher) gives his confession, obscured by silhouettes--bright pink silhouettes, a jarring yet intriguing design choice. his interrogation takes place, of course, on true confessions magazine. 

the judge, also voiced by bletcher, sentences the criminal to life... magazine, a gag that would be reused 9 years later in book revue--my favorite of these book series. i didn’t notice this until the time of writing this review, but the animation of the judge is rather whimsical and fun: he has a tattoo of a pinup girl on his forearm (labeled mabel), and as he jabs his finger through his long beard in the midst of his sentencing, flies flutter out to indicate his age. 

struggling against the bars, the prisoner wipes his brow in defeat, until something out of his peripheral catches his eye. i think this may be bob bentley animation--the animation of the prisoner wiping his brow matches up rather well with the scene he did of porky wiping his brow in porky’s railroad. the criminal sneaks behind a wall of magazines, a pan across the scene being our only guide to his movement. with that, he stumbles upon another magazine with prison bars: liberty magazine, where he escapes with ease.

a caricature of columnist walter winchell lives up to his dubbed name of “walter snitchall” as he alerts the public about the prison break, peeking through a keyhole provided by look magazine for his evidence. thus sparks the infamous tashlin montage: overlays of various animated scenes all at once to convey a sense of heightened dramatics and urgency. cop cars, bugle horns, boy scouts on the run, even tarzan and a stampede of animals (reused from the coocoo nut grove and porky in the north woods respectively). as if this cartoon couldn’t date itself further, we’re also met with recycled animation (perhaps from buddy of the apes???) of blackface caricatured natives joining the fight. even animation is reused from as far back as 1931′s ride him, bosko! with a gang of cowboys riding their horses into battle. 

time for another caricature, this one being william powell, who lumbers out to a constipated rendition of “the boulevardier from the bronx”. powell starred in the movie “the thin man” three years earlier, and is caricatured as such from his side profile, which is practically non-existent. a dog from “dog world” brags “that’s my pop!” and jumps to join his side.

something you’ll notice throughout this cartoon is the magazine dates: they’re almost all dated october 1946. common speculation is, seeing that this cartoon got a blue-ribbon release in 1945 (which means it was re-released for theaters), that they went back in and changed the dates of the magazines to appeal to the more modern audience. i doubt this is true: this is the same studio who didn’t switch to having full color cartoons until late 1943 to save money--i doubt they’d do something so costly and meticulous as changing the dates on magazine covers. 

nevertheless--the convict is now disguised as a baby, donning the cover of better babies magazine. volney white does some nice hat takes as the convict realizes he’s being followed, his baby bonnet twisting up as it attempts to contain the prisoner’s cap from flying through the roof in shock. william powell’s dog sniffs the ground... and we pan back to reveal powell doing the exact same thing, crawling around on all fours. there’s also a GREAT little gag where powell spots something, which is evidently enough trouble to constitute him blindfolding his dog. they continue their search as normal, dog now blindfolded as they cleverly past a line of magazines: the saturday evening post (whose covers i LOVE, especially the ones by norman rockwell and j.c. leyendecker!), literally adorned with wooden posts. the joke being, of course, that powell doesn’t want his dog to stop by the post and pee on it.

some nice, sharp comedic timing as powell and his dog confront the baby carriage where the prisoner is hiding: there’s a pause, and suddenly the convict pops out from the carriage and whacks powell in the face with a baby bottle. cue the climax as the prisoner makes a break for it in a baby carriage, the music score a jaunty rendition of “country boy”. after getting pelted with eggs by a polo player, a cowboy on the front of “western story” magazine lasso’s the criminal, yanking him out of the carriage and dragging him (painfully) by his neck. you’ll notice that on the cover of the magazine, a “cal howd” is credited, referring to warner bros. storyman and short-lived director cal howard. 

all of the heroes in their little magazine worlds work together to put a halt to the criminal’s escape: ships fire cannonballs that break the makeshift noose around the convict’s neck, sending him pummeling, spears thrown by the (ugh) racist native caricatures from before cause the crook to face plant, good ol’ saint nick drops his back of toys that wrap around the convict and slow down his run (the animation complex but very well done, topped off by the sound effects of clanking and horns being crushed), greta garbo trips the crook and sends him into a pond on the cover of “country life” magazine, and so forth. i love that rendition of “country boy” as the music! it was also used in earlier 1937 high energy scenes in cartoons such as the fella with the fiddle and ain’t we got fun.

a reprisal of the title song serves as a jaunty underscore as the criminal is launched onto a giant pinball machine, where he’s sent springing around, animation reused from sunday go to meetin’ time. he hits the jackpot, his reward being a sentence to “twenty thousand years in sing sing” by “warden flaws” (a play on lewis e. lawes). hugh hubert taunts the criminal with his signature high pitched giggle that daffy would appropriate into his own signature laugh, aggravating the criminal enough to grab a globe off of the cover of the world almanac, used to sock hubert right over the head. iris out on the convict gleefully impersonating hubert, giggle and all.

this isn’t my favorite tashlin cartoon by a long shot, but it’s also not the worst entry in the book series. rewatching this one a few times certainly heightened my appreciation for the short. though it’s HEAVILY dated, it’s a very clever cartoon, especially if you put some time in to do some research on who these caricatures are or what the magazines are about. i always particularly enjoy analyzing these cartoons chock full of references--time consuming, sure, but you get to LEARN something from them and you get to actively discover and absorb new information you never knew before, and that’s what it’s all about for me.

this is a fun cartoon. the colors are nice and bright, but tastefully so, the music is jaunty and happy (again, i LOVE the original song!), and the animation has its merits. i particularly enjoy volney white’s scenes, as well as the scene of the ted lewis caricature literally bending over backwards to play his clarinet. with that said though, this isn’t a perfect cartoon: some parts feel more cobbled together than others (the scene where the toys and hugh hubert applaud ted lewis’ performance feels oddly out of place), and of course you have reused animation of blackface caricatures... but, in all, it’s an endearing cartoon. there are certainly more boring cartoons out there in this genre.

this is a cartoon i’m neutral on, but i’d say that if you’re curious to see it in action, go for it! if not, you can easily skip it. it’s not a make-or-break type of deal.

with that, here’s a link!

[theculturedmarxist]

The fascist insurrection in Washington DC—which resulted in the storming of the US Congress, the panicked dispersal of terrified senators and members of the House, the delay of the official validation of Joseph Biden’s Electoral College majority, and even the occupation of the office of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi—is a turning point in the political history of the United States.

The hoary glorifications of the invincibility and timelessness of American democracy have been totally exposed and discredited as a hollow political myth. The popular phrase “It Can’t Happen Here,” taken from the title of Sinclair Lewis’ justly famous fictional account of the rise of American fascism, has been decisively overtaken by events. Not only can a fascist coup happen here. It has happened here, on the afternoon of January 6, 2021.

Moreover, even if the initial effort has fallen short of its goal, it will happen again.

What occurred yesterday was the outcome of a carefully planned conspiracy. It was instigated by Donald Trump, who has been working with a gang of fascist conspirators strategically positioned within the White House and other powerful institutions, departments and agencies of the state. Wednesday’s operation carries with it the overwhelming stench of the Trump sons, close aides like Stephen Miller, and numerous others working behind the scenes within the military, the National Guard and the police.

The conspiracy utilized the well-known techniques of modern coups. The plotters identified the meeting of the Congress to ratify Biden’s Electoral College majority as the propitious time for action. The assault was prepared by weeks of lying claims by Trump and his minions that the 2020 election had been stolen. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell rendered critical service by withholding Republican recognition of Biden’s election for weeks, thus providing time and legitimacy to Trump’s efforts to discredit the election with totally fraudulent claims of ballot fraud.

A majority of Republican congressmen and a substantial number of Republican senators orchestrated Wednesday’s political debate at which the legitimacy of the Electoral College vote was challenged, to provide the necessary pretext for the planned right-wing uprising. The final signal for the storming of the Capitol building was given by Trump himself, who delivered an insurrectionary harangue to his supporters, who—one can be certain—were directed by elements with police, military and paramilitary training.

It has already been widely noted that the fascist gangs encountered virtually no resistance as they stormed the Capitol. In the most critical and vulnerable areas of the Capitol building, the police were hardly to be seen. To politically evaluate the police response on Wednesday, one has only to recall the violence deployed last June against a peaceful anti-police brutality demonstration in Lafayette Park.

Had a left-wing protest been called in Washington to protest Trump’s efforts to overthrow the results of the election, the demonstrators—as everyone knows—would have been met with a massive show of force by the police and National Guard. There would have been police sharpshooters placed strategically on every building in the vicinity of the protesters. Military helicopters and drones would have been circling overhead. The slightest unauthorized movement by the crowd, however peaceful, would have been met with demands for its immediate dispersal, followed within minutes by the launching of barrages of tear gas cannisters. Hundreds, if not thousands, would have been kettled and arrested.

The response of the Democratic Party to the coup has been a pathetic display of political spinelessness. The first hours of the insurrection passed without a single prominent Democratic leader issuing a clear denunciation of the conspiracy, nor did any prominent Democrats call for popular resistance to the coup. Former President Obama and the Clintons, who are followed by millions on Twitter, remained silent throughout the day.

As for the president-elect, Biden waited hours before finally appearing before the public. After describing the attack on the Capitol as sedition, Biden made this extraordinary appeal to the leader of the conspiracy: “I call on President Trump to go on national television now, to fulfill his oath and defend the Constitution and demand an end to this siege.”

Normally, when confronted with an attempt to overthrow the constitutional regime, the political leader threatened by the conspiracy must immediately seek to deprive the traitors of all access to the mass media and a nationwide audience. But Biden, instead, called on Trump to appear on national television—to call off the insurrection he himself had organized!

Biden concluded his remarks with the following clarion call. “So, President Trump, step up.” This bankrupt appeal to the would-be fascist dictator will go down in history as Biden’s “Hitler, do the right thing” speech.

The Democrats, let alone the media, have no intention of exposing the full depth of the conspiracy and holding its plotters and organizers responsible. The effort to cover up the crime has already begun, with the media bloviating on the need for Democrats and Republicans “to come together in bipartisan unity.”

The decision of the House and the Senate, in the evening hours, to uphold Biden’s election is not the end of the crisis.

Appeals for “unity” with the conspirators clear the path for the next effort to carry out a fascist coup d’état. This is the lesson of the invasion of the state Capitol last April by armed fascist thugs in Lansing, Michigan and the subsequent conspiracy in the autumn of 2020 to kidnap and assassinate the Democratic governor of the state, Gretchen Whitmer. The Democratic Party and media quickly suppressed coverage of these crimes and hardly defended Whitmer against the attack. The plotters, thus far, have received little more than a slap on the wrist.

The Democrats’ response to the fascist conspiracy is not dictated merely by cowardice or stupidity. Rather, as representatives of the financial-corporate oligarchy, they are frightened that the exposure of the criminal conspiracy and its political aims would ignite a mass response within the working class that would spiral into a movement against the capitalist state and the interests it serves.

The effort to conceal the conspiracy must be opposed. Workers must take up the demand for the immediate removal and arrest of Trump. He cannot be allowed to remain in office, utilizing the immense power of the presidency to continue his plotting. His retention of the White House represents a massive threat to the people of the United States and the world. Trump still has the power to declare a national emergency and even launch a war. His finger remains on the nuclear trigger.

Nor should his co-conspirators be left in office. The Republican senators and congressmen involved in the conspiracy must be likewise removed from the Senate and Congress, arrested, placed on trial and sent to prison.

The continuing reference by the Democrats to their “Republican colleagues” is itself a mockery of democracy.

The demand must be raised for a public investigation with open hearings, aimed at identifying all those involved in the conspiracy, leading to their arrest and imprisonment.

Absolutely no confidence should be placed in the in-coming Biden administration—assuming that his inauguration is not blocked by a further uprising—to hold the conspirators to account and defend democracy.

It must never be forgotten that Biden and the Democrats represent nothing more than another political faction of the same ruling class. As Obama declared immediately after Trump’s election, the conflict between the Democrats and Republicans is nothing more than an “intramural scrimmage,” i.e., a friendly fight between members of the same team. In a statement issued Wednesday evening, Obama singled out Republicans for praise, writing obsequiously: “I’ve been heartened to see many members of the president’s party speak up forcefully today.” The only purpose of such a statement is to conceal the truth about the extent of the fascist coup.

The events of January 6, 2021 must be taken as a warning. The working class must elaborate a political strategy and plan of action to defeat future efforts to impose a dictatorship.

The political and economic dynamic of capitalist reaction and counterrevolution will continue, even with Trump out of office. This dynamic will not abate after January 20. The Democratic Party, whose congressional and senatorial delegation is stacked with millionaires and people with the closest ties to the CIA and the military, are no less capable than the Republicans of organizing a conspiracy to suppress democratic rights.

In any event, the policies of the Biden administration, which will pursue policies set by Wall Street and the military, will perpetuate and escalate the anger and frustration exploited by the fascists.

Throughout the past year, as it has conducted an unrelenting struggle against the ruling class policy of herd immunity, the Socialist Equality Party has shown in detail the connection between the ruling class’s inhuman response to the pandemic and the Trump administration’s assault on democratic rights.

The danger has not passed.

It is essential to build a network of rank-and-file committees in factories and workplaces capable of organizing broad-based popular resistance through the mobilization of all sections of the working class.

Above all, workers must understand that the disintegration of American democracy is rooted in the crisis of capitalism. In a society riven by staggering levels of social inequality, it is impossible to preserve democracy.

Draw the lessons of January 6!

Take up the fight for socialism and the defense of democratic rights by joining the Socialist Equality Party.

[himbowelsh]

18 with winnix for the kiss prompts please!

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!) 18.   kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

this definitely...  escalated far past where you wanted/needed it to go, and turned into more of an exploration of their post-war relationship, when winters joins nix in new jersey...   i had fun with it, but oof, did it ever kinda spiral.  there’s definitely kissing towards the end, though, so i hope you enjoy!!

To be fair, Nix never promised him an enjoyable night.

His first pitch was “a party”. Dick, who’s had enough experience with the sort of parties that go on in Nixon, New Jersey, replied that he had paperwork to catch up on. It was a good excuse because it wasn’t a lie. Nix brooded for a solid thirty seconds before popping back up, smile bright, to declare, “an evening affair, then, and you’re my date. You have to be, since I need one, and I haven’t got anyone else.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What about that girl, the one with the — the red hair —?”

“Hah,” replied Nix, in a flat tone that suggested his redheaded girlfriend was ancient history.

“One of the lobby girls, then.”

“Hah.”

“Blanche?”

“Hah!”

“I’m sure your mother would be honored to go with you.”

Nix had to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling down, laughing.

By the time he regained his composure, Dick was pretty much resigned to accompanying him for the evening. He’s never been able to say no to Nix anyways, even during the war. Being home — Nix’s home — and seeing him in his element — for better or worse — just makes it harder. Something about Nix in the bustling atmosphere of the New Jersey social scene is beguiling, electric, and a bit haunted. Like watching a film noir, Dick can never look away.

He doesn’t expect to have a good time. Nix’s parties are not designed to be good times for people who don’t smoke, drink, or gamble. Nix was kind enough not to remark on the novel tucked into the inside pocket of Dick’s suit jacket as they strode up the walkway towards the roaring party. Loud music blared from open windows; lights and laughter twinkled from beyond the spacious French doorways. It was only nine o’clock, but Dick could feel exhaustion creeping up on him already.

“Come on,” Nix encouraged, guiding him into the townhouse with a proud hand on his elbow. “Let’s set you up on a nice sofa and find a Shirley Temple. Extra cherries, just for you.”

The one thing Dick will credit Lewis Nixon’s parties for — they’re never stingy with the cherries.

Now, three hours into the affair, he sets aside his most recent soda and scans the crowd. As the hours wind away, the raucous group has started to thin out. Either the partiers are headed somewhere else, or all have appointments to keep in the morning, because they show no signs of lingering into the early hours. Dick can be grateful for that much, at least. Those types of parties typically end with him dozing on a stranger’s sofa until he has to steer a very drunk Nix into the back of the waiting car at 3am. Dick has suffered through enough late evenings to never want to see another one again — though, time after time, he ends up coming out for Nix.

It seems like a quiet one tonight, though, thank goodness. The music has faded to a lull, someone thrumming out a thoughtful tune on the piano. The rowdiest partiers have taken leave, and all that’s left are Nix’s regular companions— the home’s owner, another Ivy League man Nix knows well, along with several of his mistresses; a few other Nixon Nitration folks Dick vaguely recognizes, and their dates; Nix’s sister Blanche, leaning languidly over the piano in a shimmering silver dress; and Nix, sprawled in a chair, top buttons of his shirt undone and hair disheveled.

He looks utterly debauched, and something about it thrills Dick. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course, but Nix in his sanguine element is magnetic. He’s like a panther — sleek and relaxed, dangerous under a veneer of nobility. No matter how much he’s had to drink, Nix’s dark gaze is always piercing; he always seems to know something the rest of the room doesn’t, and sometimes it plays on his lips like a hidden treasure.

He’s smirking like that now, and the smirk’s trained directly on Dick… and he can’t look away. It’s impossible. Even if he wanted to, Nix reels him in with that penetrating gaze. It’s all Dick can do to sit up straighter, pretending he is comfortable in this rakish crowd, the only one sober and the only one out of place.

“Speaking of saints,” Nix says at once — loud enough to cut in on whatever theological ramble his Yale buddy was in the middle of, ���here’s one now. Sitting in front of us. Dick, come here. Show these fellows what a true Saint Augustine looks like.”

Dick would rather do anything else… but he’d cross a mountain for Lewis Nixon. Crossing the length of a trashed ballroom is only a bit more challenging. He comes to stand at Nix’s side, clearly uncomfortable, while Nix’s friends take him in as though seeing him for the first time this evening.

“You know I’m not Catholic, Lew,” he tries to quip, to break the tense mood. Nix’s hand catches his, squeezing lightly, and Dick’s own unease only grows.

“Neither am I, but we’re pretending for tonight. Gives all the sinning a bit more zest, you know?”

“Sure.” Dick’s hand comes to rest on the back of Nix’s chair, unconsciously craving something to do. One of the host’s mistresses, with bright red lips and sharp eyes, doesn’t miss it.

“Ohh,” she hums, like the word is a wave she must ride to the shore. “Don't say it, Lewis. This is your handsome date?”

Something about the way she says it has Dick’s shoulders tensing in instinctual alarm. Maybe Nix has had far too much to drink, or can read this crowd too well; he doesn’t even flinch at the implication.

“Afraid so,” he replies, a hand creeping up Dick’s sleeve. “Nice enough to hang around all night, even though he’d rather be back home pouring over...  productivity reports. Employee reviews? Staff... surveys?”

“Something like that,” Dick says.

“Something like that.” Nix’s hand runs up and down Dick’s arm, blatantly fond. It takes everything in Dick’s power not to tense up.

None of the assembled crowd seems bothered by such a display, however. Nix’s friends exchange knowing looks, smirking around lit cigarettes or crystal glasses. One woman languidly kicks her heels onto her date’s laugh, shaking her head. From the piano, Blanche runs a hand over her glossy hair, gaze sharp on her brother and his companion. “He’s out of your league, Lewis,” she chimes. Her smirk is catlike, voice like molasses dripping onto spring grass. At times, she looks dangerously like her brother, and Dick isn’t sure how to handle either of them.

Nix’s grip settles around Dick’s upper arm. “Isn’t that the truth?”

When Dick looks down, Nix is looking up. Something about his whiskey-bright gaze knocks the breath from his lungs. It’s too… soft, too tender. Too intimate for this party, to exist among strangers. Nix’s grip on his bicep is firm, and Dick has no desire to pull away. He doesn’t get the chance to question — not even a flicker of uncertainty, a breathless what's he doing — before Nix gives a tug, and Dick all but tumbles into his lap.

He regains his balance like a newborn colt, to the bubbling laughter of Nix’s audience. His cheeks flare, bright red; Nix’s touches, usually so welcome, now linger on his skin like a hot iron. He’s straddling his best friend’s knees, Nix’s arm wrapped around his to steady him, and it’s all Dick can do not to leap back to his feet to salvage whatever slim slice of dignity remains.

“Nix,” he says, voice low in warning.

“Relax, Dick,” he answers, equally softspoken. “It’s all a game. Don’t you see? None of it really matters.”

It matters to me, he wants to say...  because Nix has never held him without it mattering, has never caressed him without every sensation engraving itself permanently into Dick’s memory. Nix has never… not mattered to him. Some part of Dick, an small yet insidious murmur, wonders when he became insignificant to him.

The way Nix caresses his face is anything but meaningless, though… as is the way his dark gaze lingers on his lips, simmering for so long that Dick can feel its heat. Nix’s thumb grazes the corner of his mouth, and instinctively Dick draws back.

Something hurt flashes in Nix’s eyes. Dick cannot feel guilty. He doesn’t want this — can’t Nix understand that? Not here, not now, not putting on a show for an audience. Not when Nix is whiskey-soaked and careless, so far gone that Dick could get drunk off the taste of him. If this is a game, Dick doesn’t want to play.

“Father isn’t around for you to give a coronary, Lewis.” Blanche’s voice echoes as though from the other side of a tunnel, practically bored. “Save it for the next family dinner, at least.”

Gradually, Nix’s grip on Dick’s waist loosens. His touch pulls away from his face, finding Dick’s hand instead. He raises it to his mouth and lets it linger there — a sweet mockery of a kiss — before releasing Dick entirely. 

Dick pulls away, regaining his posture and his dignity. The eyes of the room are all on him now, as surely as they were on the jazz singer earlier in the night. He can’t take their weight, or their curiosity. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead, he brushes himself down and murmurs an excuse to Nix. “Just going to get some air.”

Nix doesn’t try to stop him.

Stepping out into the cool night is like being released from prison. Dick braces himself against the stone railing of the townhouse’s balcony, gazing at the gravel drive only a few feet below. He could jump it, if he really wanted to — easier that than going back inside and leaving out the front door, wrangling Nix away from his clan. They’re not so far from home — he could walk it, in an hour or so. The fresh air would do his head good. At least in the dark, no one would be able to see him, to wonder and scrutinize…

His mind has gone to a strange place now, and is twisting itself in tangles. Recognizing his own impossible daydream, Dick sighs, slumping forward. A hand finds his hair, rumbling it. For a long moment, he only breathes, focusing on the autumn air filling his lungs and the crickets chirping in the night, to drown out the storm raging inside.

His nerves are too taut not to notice when someone comes up behind him… but the scent of perfume is familiar, so he doesn’t jump. She sidles up alongside him, inhaling softly in the night air; she blows out the same way Nix does, from deep within her chest. When Dick raises his head, Blanche is not focused on him at all, but looking ahead down the driveway.

“Planning your escape?” she asks lightly. Her mulberry lips curl upwards, without the chore of looking at him. “I don’t blame you. That was painful, in there.”

Dick arches an eyebrow. “You felt it too?”

She has a drink in her hand, but the glass is empty. As Blanche’s attention drifts to it, she seized upon the olive, still speared and languishing inside the glass. With delicate, manicured fingers, she plucks it out and scrutinizes the tiny fruit.

“You can’t let him bully you, Dick,” she says after a moment. The scent of wine may be heavy on her breath, but her words are perfectly sober. “He doesn’t mean to, but it’s instinct around these people. They all like to show off, and he’s proud of you.”

Dick’s brows furrow. He’s not some brand new car, or a gold-plated watch. “Why?”

“Because you’re nothing like them.” Blanche’s dark gaze flickers up to him; for the first time tonight, Dick feels entirely seen. Her lips purse, like she’s fighting back a smile, but something in her eyes reminds him of loneliness. “You don’t belong in this set… and that’s nothing against you, darling, only what you know as well as us. My brother prizes you so highly; he’s proud that you’re here, that you’re with him, that you give him your time and agree to accompany him to these parties, even though you’d much rather be doing anything else.”

Dick’s lips purse. Blanche waits a moment, as though expecting him to protest… but he has nothing to say.

“Rich little boys love their toys. You need to remind him that you aren’t one.” Her fingers drum against the rim of her glass; each clink-clink-clink pierces Dick’s nerves like shrapnel wounds.

“He doesn’t mean anything wrong by it,” he protests, because he knows Nix well enough to understand that. 

“Of course not. If he didn’t care about you…” Blanche’s words trail off, along with her gaze. She drifts back out to the driveway, painted lips pursing like she’s considering something far away. After another silent moment, she glances at Dick once more. “Last chance to run.”

Dick smirks. “I’m considering it.”

Blanche sighs into the night, pushing her folded arms off the railing and stepping back. Dick no longer feels inclined to stand out in the darkness, alone. As she steps back into the well-lit hallway, he follows her.

When they reenter the lounge, Nix is holding court, in the middle of an animated story Dick’s heard before. “— of course, I couldn’t have known there was a cat involved, otherwise I’d never have set foot in the apartment. So I sit down on the couch and the damned thing launches at me, yowling like a bat out of hell —“ He cuts off, mid-flail, gaze landing on his sister and companion. “Ah. Was wondering where you too made off to.”

“Nothing untoward,” Blanche drawls, slinking back towards the bar. “I offered, but Dick’s too upstanding.”

Nix locks onto Dick, and again, his gaze is painfully warm. Dick feels the same way, like a furnace is burning under his collar. Uneasily, he lowers himself onto a settee at the far edge of the room, back to the door so he won’t be tempted. So long as he’s in Nix’s sightline, his presence counts… but he doesn’t have to make himself the object of a crowd’s fascination again.

Nix understands, in that easy way of his. His lips curl up in the slightest smile, before he turns back to his audience. “As I was saying…”

His story winds on for a little while longer, before he grows bored with it. By then, the crowd has grown equally bored with its malingering, but still too languid to get up and do something about it. One of the women slips behind the piano and tries to start up a dancing tune, but no one bites. Her song devolves into something slower, more thoughtful. The host pours himself another drink from the bar, and doesn’t offer to serve anyone else; his mistresses chatter in an undertone, lipstick stained crystal glasses sitting beside them. Nix reclines back in his chair, perfectly debauched. His hair is a ruffled mess, bow-tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. The top of his shirt is still open, carelessly displaying his collarbones and a flash of dark hair across his chest. 

You’ll catch a chill, a voice in Dick’s head that sounds too much like his mother chides. He’s seized briefly with the inexplicable, intense urge to cross the room and lean over Nix to close the shirt himself. It passes, of course, and he politely averts his gaze.

Perhaps he’s doing too good of a job not looking at him. “Dick,” Nix finally says, from right behind him. “Ready to go?”

A wave of relief washes over him. He hasn’t wanted anything so badly since his discharge papers. “Let’s go,” he replies, rising to his feet.

They pay polite goodbyes to their host; Blanche waves them off with an eyeroll for Nix and a blown kiss for Dick. Then, finally, they leave through the front door, and slip into the night.

While they drove here themselves, Nix is in no state to command the car. Dick is already prepared to take the wheel, when the valet steps up with keys in hand. “Do you require a ride home, Mr. Nixon?”

Dick’s surprised gaze swivels towards Nix, as if to ask do we? (He’s still so unused to the world of chauffeurs and butlers, and every encounter leaves a foreign, coppery taste in his mouth.) Nix dwells on the offer for a moment with lazy-eyed disinterest, before shrugging and gesturing the valet towards his car. “Why not? Roy likes to be generous. Let him do us a favor for once, huh?”

Dick, who has never personally done Nix’s friend Roy a single favor, just nods.

Nix’s car is sleek and expensive, a top of the line Plymouth Deluxe in glossy black paint and felt seating. Dick has sat in the passenger’s seat enough times that sliding into the back feels like a mistake, something to double back and correct before he manages to embarrass himself. Nix slides in right behind him, not giving him the chance. The scent of car freshener can’t disguise the stuffy air in the back of the car; there’s not much separating the back from the front, but the forward row of seats stretch up, practically creating a barrier to separate both ends of the car in half. Dick hears the driver slide in up front, but in the darkness, it’s hard to see.

“Turn on the radio, will you?” Nix requests as the car stirs to life. Obligingly, the driver turns a few knobs; what threatens to become an awkward silence immediately finds itself drowned out by a staticky love ballad.

“And when I kissed you, darling It was more than just a thrill for me It was the promise, darling Of the things that fate had willed for me…”

The timing is astonishingly poor. Dick slumps back against the seat, all but defeated. At his side, Nix chuckles.

When Dick looks over, it's impossible to catch his eye. The night is too dark, and these roads aren’t well-lit; shrouded by shadows, Nix’s eyes are two black holes, drawing all trace of light into them and holding it hostage. Dick catches a flash of something pearly, which must be the jagged cut of Nix’s smile; the silhouetted shoulders rise up and down, in what isn’t quite laughter.

After a moment, Nix goes still. Dick can’t see, but he knows he’s being watched.

“Well?” Nix finally says. “When are you going to tell me what an idiot I am?”

Dick turns his head, looking out the window nearest to him. “Never occurred to me, Nix.”

“Maybe not to say it, but you were thinking it. Come on, Dick.” A smooth-palmed hand finds his in the darkness. Dick allows it. “I knew I screwed up the moment you pulled away. Knew it as soon as I saw your face, really, but damn me if I know how to stop… come on, that’s what I bring you to these things for. To keep a leash on me.”

Dick thinks Nix’s social circle picked up on that, at least.

He doesn’t realize how tense he’s gone until Nix���s thumb strokes along the back of his knuckles; his hand, Dick realizes, has gone stiff as a corpse’s, gnarled with tension. When he looks down, he’s suddenly ashamed. He tries to pull away, but Nix holds fast.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sudden and sincere.

“You didn’t do anything,” Dick replies. “If I didn’t want to be there —“

“You don’t want to be there. You come to these awful things for me, even though you can’t stand it, and you’re a fish out of water the whole time. I’m being cruel to you. Downright uncharitable! And you know the reason why.”

Dick’s gaze is drawn back to him again. This time, as a flash of light passes through the car, he glimpses Nix’s face — eyes bright with drink, devastatingly earnest, his lips curled downwards and jaw tense. He’s handsome without trying… and cruel, too. More careless than he realizes.

Blanche’s words echo in his ears: rich little boys love their toys.

“It might be a game to you, Nix,” Dick says softly, “but it isn’t to me. Whatever show you were putting on in there… I don’t want to be part of it anymore.”

Nix is silent for a long moment. The air between them is thick as curdled cream. “I understand,” he finally says. “I… I get it, Dick, christ. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Of course he knows. Doesn’t Nix realize he doesn’t have to put on a show for anyone, just do Dick will stand by his side? Doesn’t he realize the whole reason Dick goes to these parties, time and time again, is for him? Because he’d shatter the entire world and piece it back together, fragment by microscopic fragment, just to make Lewis Nixon happy?

“It’s never been a game to me, Nix,” he says softly.

In the darkness, Nix’s hand finds his again. This time, Dick squeezes tight.

He doesn’t know exactly how they come together, what magnetism pulls them or the way their bodies fit together. His shoulder presses up against Nix’s; his fingers find the threads of Nix’s hair; Nix’s thigh is a solid weight as it drapes over his own, his skin is warm, and suddenly Nix is practically in his lap.

It felt better this way. Dick likes the cover of darkness, is painfully grateful for it, just as he is of the way his hand fits over Nix’s hip. He likes holding him so much more than he likes being held… and something in the sigh Nix breathes against his lips suggests he likes it this way too.

“It’s not a game to me either, Dick,” he murmurs. “You matter too damn much”

The distance between them closes on its own will. Nix tastes like whiskey and coffee and August twilight; his lips are smooth, gliding over Dick’s own as though he’s wet them a dozen times since their conversation began. Their embrace is tender, but the hand gripping Dick’s shoulder is desperate. When Dick sighs against Nix’s lips, he utters a soft noise, almost like a whine. Dick’s fingers run along his scalp, soothing the dissatisfaction away.

“I much prefer this,” Dick mutters. “It suits us both better… privacy.”

“If it suits you,” Nix replies, “that’s all I need to know.”

It’s not perfect, and it’s not quite laid to rest… but they make it home at a reasonable hour, and Dick holds Nix in the privacy of their own home. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

[titaniumrock]

Okay so I actually have a lot of ideas for my Playa and one thing I really want to share is well, basically the jist of his life before joining the saints. It's not the greatest but yeah, click read more if you're interested in hearing what in the gods names I wrote.

So my Playa's actual name is Alex Lewis and he grew up with very rich parents. (I think Playa being apart of a gang and living like a 'normal' person when he has a shit ton of money and rich parents is funny. Plus it's a nice explanation on why he can just grab the money from the in-game safes from the cribs without any care, as it can be part of the gangs 'checks' to their people and his 'allowance' because holy crap there's usually a lot of money in those things.) Now he's also the youngest of the three children (him included) his parents had. (His parents were trying to embody the Nuclear family, Dad works, mom stays home, and the children have to be (for them) one boy, one girl, and the last child is a wild card (boy or girl).)

So unlike Playas two siblings (Adam and Brooklyn) who were raised pretty strict so that his parents could have the 'perfect family', he was given lots of freedom as he was the wild card in the family and they figured that he would follow his siblings lead (which was pretty much true). But while he had that freedom he was also held to the same standards as his two siblings and was pretty sheltered to the world. So because of that it kind of enforced the idea of following along with whatever others say (usually) especially in the two gangs he had joined (this will be expanded upon).

Now because of the high pressure and anxiety from his parents to reach and even surpass the bar that was set and sometimes even rising further, he developed selective mutism. When this developed his mother was frantic with finding out what was wrong with him, she went to numerous doctors which all gave her the same answer. She eventually accepted it and did everything she could to try and 'fix' it which is also a big factor in why he was given so much freedom. His mother also over accommodates him quite a lot which is why he tends to not want to be seen with her as it's rather embarrassing, especially when she makes a scene. His selective mutism also only really dissipates when he's relaxed with a person in an area he's relaxed in, in a area alone and away from everyone where his anxiety melts away (example; his car, his room, the loft, outside in the wilderness, and out on the water), wearing a full face mask, extremely high anger which runs over his anxiety (otherwise he stays quiet and seethes internally), and when he can't suppress a stupid joke. Otherwise he just writes out his words/expresses them, examples on where/what he uses; phone text, charades, refrigerator letters, paper and pen, white/chalk board, basically anything.

Later in life when he finishes high school his family moves over to Stilwater for his fathers job. ( His sister coming with as she didn't like the city they were living in before and she didn't want to move out just yet.) This is where Playa finally gets to move out and he finds a listing for the Loft we see in game. (I really like this Loft for some reason so it's Playas now). He also decided to do some baby sitting and he babysits two little girls that dress him up like a princess and forces him to do tea parties and what not, which is why he keeps his hair long so that the two girls can decorate it. Those two little girls are also some of the few people he actually speaks too after a little while of babysitting them.

While he's there he ends up first joining the Vice kings (ironically enough considering how close the saints are) because someone invited him to join after he accidentally saves a few of their asses a few times. While he was with them he found that many of the members used him to buy things but he was primarily used as a scapegoat, many members leaving him to clean up their messes especially when they found out he was from money. After a few months of this he eventually had enough and left when he was almost killed, essentially faking his own death to the gang. With that little experience he did his best to just stay away from the gangs until he was saved by Julius, which then made Playa reconsider and join up with the saints.

[riotatthemovies]

Halloween sitcom specials.

When the Halloween season comes rolling in I like most people start to watch more horror movies (maybe even more than I usually do). But near Halloween the horror I watch needs to have a childish innocence to it. Memories of Halloween with candy and costumes and telling each other innocent ghosts stores around a fire to spook each other. That's what Halloween is for me, memories of how as a child monsters and ghosts were just too damn cool. So the horror films I choose are more monster based often with a folklore campfire tales twists. However I also love flashing back to the cheesiest childhood memories of tv at the time. Everyone loves the better episode of Simpsons Treehouse of horror. The VHS collecting geeks I talk to often post articles about the infamous Halloween make up tips tapes and safety PSA tapes of the 80s. 

For your retro entertainment I bring you a list of my 10 favorite sitcom and kids show Halloween episodes of my youth. I say my favorite not the best because I'm sure if I said the best I'll get a msg saying I'm wrong. Also I'm sure some kids gonna tell me of a that's so Raven episode and I'm an old so I never watched that. Also people always talk about the Rosanne Halloween episodes so I will let everyone else talk about those. Also note there was never a Golden girls Halloween special and if there was there is no doubt that would be the top of my list. So this is in no real order . . .

10: Facts of Life Season 5 episode The Halloween Show

Natalie is making a home movie and SPOILER tricks all the girls into believing their den mother is possessed by a ghost and is turning random people into sausages and feeding them to the group. Yeah seriously that's the point, I mean you don't know its Natalie tricking everyone so she can film a reality horror film until the end but you figure it out. Its completely unbelievable that the group of girls fall for this and legit believe it enough to try and fight their den mother that they have been best friends with for five seasons. The magic of a show being 25 minutes long that the characters have to jump to huge assumptions and get over it and a chuckle pretty quick too.

9: Webster Season 4 episode Witchbusters

Webster has some non Halloween oddly creepy episodes as it was pure 80s kids entertainment. Webster loved wearing Halloween masks and in season 2 he finds a creepy doll in the room of a missing girl that looks like a real person and comes off very Black Christmas/ Psycho. But I love the season 4 episode where Webster is peer pressured into sneaking into an old ladies house on Halloween because everyone thinks she is a witch. When Webster sneaks in his friend chickens out and leaves . Webster then finds one of the old ladies cats and thinks it is his friend who had been turned into the cat by the witch. Like many episodes the issue at had happens because Webster is really dumb. So of course he kidnaps the cat and takes it home because he thinks its his friend. Dumb Webster Dumb. Man I loved that stupid show.

8 .Family Matters season 8 episode STEVIL

Many people seem to remember the Halloween episode where infamous Steve Urkel brings a ventriloquist dummy to the Winslows Halloween party and as as ventriloquist dummies do , it comes to life and tries to kill everyone. Goosebumps meets Family Matters right there. I noticed its been the hip show to talk about this seaspn, probably cause this happened in the 90s.

7. Mr. Belvedere season 3 episode called Halloween

Mr Belvedere is depressed after eye surgery and the youngest kid in the family Wesley gets old Mr Belvedere in an eye patch and brings him out trick or treating which in turn sends him out on a bit of a bender. Also in the episode the daughter wants to wear a sexy maid costume to a party but her dad wont let her. So her older brother wears the maid costume to the party so they can secretly switch costumes there. Just one of many episodes where the older brother Kevin did a drag scene to show off his legs. ALSO in that episode the dad Bob Ueker is asked to join a sort of Shriners group but they end up being a crazy hooded cult. Which is extra funny cause in later episodes you find he did join the Shriner group after all and they never mention them being a cult. In fact the next time you see the cult members they are friends of the family and all go in drag with the oldest son they can go under cover to catch a purse snatcher.. but that's another episode.

6. Alf season 2 episode called Some enchanted evening.

Alf wants to go trick or treating cause well candy of course. The tanners think its too dangerous for Alf to go out even that he insists everyone will think he is just in a costume and not an actual Alien Life form. Eventually a Halloween party is held at the house and Alf meets an old cat lady. Alf loves cats... sorta. Also in the episode is an appearance of Lewis Arquette the dad of the all those wacky Arquette kids.

Seeing the costumes that appear in all these episodes makes one feel like in the 80s and 90s there was a rule that you couldn't have a Halloween party if there was not one devil, one pirate , one French maid, one little bo peep, one scarecrow and one Dracula. Like it was a rule or something.

5. KnightRider Season 3 episode called Halloween Knight

Michael Knight must investigate the visions of a confused woman. They believe she will be the next victim of a murdered in a gorilla suit. In the episode a man wears one of the silver shamrock pumpkin masks from Halloween 3. I did an whole article on this last year. Just another reason for you to go look through the riotatthemoveis archive.

4. Fall Guy season 4 episode called October 31st

Elvira guests stars as her self as she teams up with Lee Majors and the Fall guy team to break a curse and solve a possible murder in an old castle. Guest cameos of John, David and Keith Carradine. Also Lewis Arquette. Elvira would return the next season in an episode called.. wait for it.. October the 32nd... Yep.

3. Night Court season 3 episode called Halloween Too.

Every season of Night Court got a Halloween episode but this one is suiting for the humorous episode title and for Markie Post (who was in the episode of Fall Guy I just mentioned) wearing an amazingly and awkwardly hot witch costume. She shows up in this costume after Judge Stone has just broken up with his girlfriend who he discovers is an actual witch with magical powers as he believed her magic compromised his position on the bench. Guest cameo by Anne Ramsey as another witch. All the Halloween episodes are but I really like in this one when Quan Lee misunderstands the concept of Trick or Treating and thinks you need to threaten people for candy. Also I just needed an excuse to post this picture of Markie Post.

2 . Diff’rent Strokes Season 7 episode called A Haunting we will go. Arnold and his new step brother Sam (yeah that's a thing if you ever watched the last two season of Diff’rent Strokes) peer pressure them selves into sneaking in to an old haunted house. (similar to the Webster episode as poor little Gary Coleman and Emanuel Lewis would always be compared to each other). What makes this episode gold is when Arnold and Sam break into the haunted house they have detailed replica Ghostbusters costumes on, decades before Strangers Things season 2. We also get a door banging , chandelier shaking haunted house , dusty piano and everything if I remember right and then they show us how they did it. Very cool for an 80s kid like me. Also guest stars the amazing John Astin.

Last but not least...

Punky Brewster season 2 episodes Perils of Punky part one and 2. The cartoon series has an episode of the same name but no relation. This two parter is something if you know me you have heard about a lot. Punky and her pals go camping and meet a native shaman who tells them about a haunted cave, so in part 2 what do they do.. go in it of course. Then shit get surreal. Punkys friends get offed one by one by evil spirits then get turned into severed heads, one that flies and one that is stuck in the rock wall. It all ends with Punky having to battle a giant spider with shades of the original IT movie and has to hack it to death with an axe. Ending in the spirit of native girl waving goodbye in the cave that looks just like Punky as her friends magically come back to life as if it was all a dream... or was it. The episode is to be seen to be believed. My second favorite next to the episode where Punky thinks she killed a man at her restaurant but finds out he is just a narcoleptic with a broken hearing aid. COMEDY!!!!!

There are so many more, feel free to msg me and let me know old tv shows that had wild Halloween episodes that you hold dear.

I need some Count Chocula and a reason to watch some more... hmm maybe some boo berry,... oh man, anyone got an Haunted House pasta or Scarieos?

dang.

[dweemeister]

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Alice in Wonderland (1951)

There is an abandoned building at 1127 E 31st St. in Kansas City, Missouri. That 1922 building, made up of red brick and mortar, would have met the wrecking ball long ago, if not for its historical value. For one year, it housed the Laugh-O-Gram Studio, founded by Walt Disney and the first job in animated film for several people who would become instrumental in shaping the American animation industry. Alongside Disney, the Laugh-O-Gram staff included:

Ubbe “Ub” Iwerks, who co-created Mickey Mouse and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit with Walt. Ub stayed with the Disney studios as an animator or special effects specialist through Mary Poppins (1964);

Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, who founded Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies with Warner Bros. in the 1930s under producer Leon Schlesinger, later moving to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM);

and Friz Freleng, who joined Harman and Ising and Warner Bros and MGM as principally a director, while introducing or developing most of the central Looney Tunes characters.

All of these figures would shape the environment for animated talkies into the midcentury. But Laugh-O-Gram could not survive the financial obstacles that led to the studio’s closure after only a year. Go back and watch the Laugh-O-Gram shorts and you will find imaginative, rowdy stories paired with movements as fluid as animators not named Winsor McCay (1914’s Gertie the Dinosaur, 1918’s The Sinking of the Lusitania) could draw in the early 1920s. Laugh-O-Gram’s last film, Alice’s Wonderland (1923), was never released commercially to the public and – considering its hybrid of animation and live-action footage – demonstrates the influence McCay had over Disney and his fellow animators.

Later in 1923, Walt submitted Alice’s Wonderland to Margaret Winkler, whose Winkler Productions was the leading animated short film distributor of the time. Winkler had just fallen out professionally with Pat Sullivan, the co-creator of Felix the Cat. Needing a quick replacement and charmed by the animated frenzy surrounding the hybrid animation/live-action Alice, Winkler signed Walt Disney and his Laugh-O-Gram team (including child actress Virginia Davis) to produce the Alice Comedies short film series (1923-1927, including 1923’s Alice’s Wonderland) in Hollywood. These films, Disney’s first taste of commercial triumph, shared little resemblance to Lewis Carroll’s novels Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, except for the curiosity of the title character and the fantastical situations she might find herself in. After the end of the Alice Comedies series and the formation of Walt Disney Productions (now Walt Disney Animation Studios), Walt wished to adapt Carroll’s books – which he had been familiar with since his childhood in Missouri – into a feature film. Outside forces delayed the project, including the box office failure of Paramount’s live-action Alice in Wonderland (1933) and the creative and fiscal burdens that his studio had to bear during World War II.

During this time, Walt resigned himself to the fact that any animated adaptation of Carroll’s novels, more interested in illogic and wordplay than any sensible storytelling, would not reach the artistic heights of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). His long wait to adapt Alice in Wonderland as a feature film would end in 1951, with the film co-directed by Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, and Hamilton Luske. A stellar voice cast, mixture of storybook and unusual animation, and an acceptance of its own absurdity make Alice in Wonderland one of the best non-Golden Age Disney animated features.

Alice (voiced by Kathryn Beaumont) is a child, probably ten years of age give or take. She is one of the youngest protagonists in Disney’s animated canon and a rare human female lead without monarchical ties or aspirations. Her story is simply a fantastical dream of her subconscious’ creation. Thus, freed from the limitations and expectations of the “real world”, Alice in Wonderland – and the novels it was adapted from – is an episodic series of nonsensical encounters of the various characters that inhabit Alice’s Wonderland. This posed a dilemma for the Disney animators and the army of writers on the film. How does one make Alice, whose only notable characteristics include her naïveté and incurable curiosity, a more interesting character than what Lewis Carroll wrote? With the animators and writers finding no answer, Disney’s Alice is just as reactive (as opposed to proactive) as Carroll’s characterization for her. Inane things happen to and around her, infrequently because of her own initiative; anyone expecting the studio’s first female lead to write down names, possess a sharp wit, and kick ass might need to recalibrate said expectations given the source material.

This discourse wades into questions about literary fidelity in cinema – no standard formula exists for how literature should be adapted to a film. To adapt Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass as faithfully as possible would be to invite structural and tonal chaos. Carroll’s numerous poetic asides, extremely abrupt (and, to me, exhausting) tonal shifts, and his near-complete dedication to exposition whenever nonsense is not present does not make for a digestible film. The Alice in Wonderland that audiences have enjoyed since 1951 presents its developments far out of any Carroll’s narrative order. The tone and individual moments remain Carroll-esque, but, upon release, British critics savaged the film for degrading Carroll’s best-known works (more on this later). Yet by my judgment and familiarity with Carroll’s books (which, to reiterate, are not concerned about character development) Disney’s animated version is the best cinematic adaptation in line with the Carroll’s artistic intentions.

Alice in Wonderland is best seen as a quasi-Disney package film filled with one-upmanship in its animation. A distracted Walt was barely aware of day-by-day developments during production, and thus did not rein in some of the animated excess Alice in Wonderland is now justly acclaimed for. For the second consecutive entry in the Disney animated canon, Mary Blair’s concept art (1950’s Cinderella, 1953’s Peter Pan) is principally responsible for what the background animators would adopt. In the bookend scenes outside Wonderland, the lush, foliage-filled backgrounds recall her work during Disney’s package era, and are easily the most “realistic” backgrounds since the inimitable Bambi (1942). Once the film descends into Wonderland, the background animators, attempting to convert her concept art into cel animation, attempt (but fail to) replicate the characteristic flatness of her concept art.

But for everything else integral to Blair’s artwork – the lack of straight lines, highly stylized architectural and natural features, and detonation of colors – the background animators (who would be assigned specific scenes) faithfully render her style as closely as they can without completely making Alice in Wonderland a modernist phantasmagoria. The film is an overload of colorful experimentation. Just choose from any one of the scenes involving the White Rabbit’s house, the Caterpillar’s toadstool hideaway, the tea party, or the Queen of Hearts’ domain and one is subject to a visual cacophony of inspired production design and artistic audacity. It can be overwhelming, but Wonderland’s locales represent some of the greatest examples of settings-as-character in almost all of animated cinema.

Alice’s Wonderland, however, is nothing without the characters that dwell within. Some of the most impressive character designs of Disney’s mid-century animated films appear in this film, thanks mostly to two of the “Nine Old Men” – Ward Kimball (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1971’s Bedknobs and Broomsticks) and Frank Thomas (1940’s Pinocchio, 1977’s The Rescuers) – and Norm Ferguson (“Dance of the Hours” in 1940’s Fantasia, 1953’s Peter Pan). Because of the sheer number of characters that Thomas and Kimball designed and directed on this film (and this is not even mentioning several other fellow directing animators), I will focus on two specific characters of theirs.

For Norm Ferguson, he is the sole directing animator of the Walrus and the Carpenter, the characters from the eponymous segment imparted to Alice by Tweedledee and Tweedledum (itself an adaptation of Carroll’s “The Walrus and the Carpenter” poem within Through the Looking-Glass). As a study of differences, the designs of both characters give their personalities away even if one were to mute the audio or view a still image. The Carpenter – scrawny, scruffy, and short – telegraphs his dimwittedness and gullibility from his opening moments on-screen. Adding to that visual characterization is that he shares a voice actor, J. Pat O'Malley, and a squeaky, honky timbre with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. O’Malley also voices the Walrus, but adjusts his delivery to a throaty bass, interspersed with the coughing one expects from a chain-smoker, let alone a chain-smoking walrus. The Walrus – appropriately rotund (as walruses should be) with a kitschy suit – is a charming fellow, but beneath that charm are his occasional all-knowing smirks that belie selfish intentions. Ferguson’s clashing character animation for both, in addition to the morbid comedy of “The Walrus and the Carpenter”, are a brilliant complement the abridged poem used in the scene. Alice in Wonderland would be Norman Ferguson’s penultimate film with the studio before his retirement due to complications with diabetes.

With Alice in Wonderland, Frank Thomas is the directing animator for the movie’s antagonist for the second straight Disney animated feature. The techniques and artistry used for Cinderella’s Lady Tremaine and the Queen of Hearts – voiced deliciously (and boisterously) by Disney regular Verna Felton (Dumbo’s Mrs. Jumbo and the Elephant Matriarch, Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother) – could not be any more different. Where Lady Tremaine was heavily rotoscoped in her movements and facial expressions, there is nothing realistic about the Queen of Hearts’ physicality. As a buxom bundle of waving limbs, she has arguably the most fleshy and expressive face in a 1950s Disney animated feature. In that face, in Felton’s iconic voice acting, we find a crazed monarch who desperately needs to see a therapist to contain her volcanic temper. Thomas’ character design sells the Queen of Hearts’ mood swings – perfunctory courteousness, egomania, pettiness, and bloodlust (“Off with his head!”). Thus, she becomes Disney’s closest analogue to the uptight and pretentious narcissists that the likes of Bugs Bunny or, to a lesser extent, Daffy Duck might have brought down to size in a Looney Tunes short film. How fortunate that the Queen of Hearts only appears in Alice in Wonderland’s concluding stages; an entire film dedicated to her (please do not pass this hypothetical along to a Walt Disney Company executive) would be a wearisome indulgence.

The last masterstroke of character design is thanks to Ward Kimball. Kimball, shortly about to revert his focus from feature animation to television and the Disney theme parks, was the principal designer of the Cheshire Cat. The wide-grinning Cheshire Cat, voiced by Sterling Holloway (Kaa in 1967’s The Jungle Book, the original voice of Winnie the Pooh), is a distinctive swirl of purple and pink stripes, his yellow eyes giving off a blazing glare. As opposed to the Queen of Hearts, the Cheshire Cat – no more or less peculiar than any other inhabitant of Wonderland – rarely stands on his hind legs. Instead, he prefers to perch himself, stomach-first, and limit his non-facial physical movements. With Holloway’s mellifluous voice acting, the physics-bending Cheshire Cat is not the sort to be vengeful or unleash verbal fire and brimstone. But with his capabilities of troublemaking for his own personal entertainment, he is the least predictable and perhaps most dangerous character of all. Depending on the viewer, the Cheshire Cat can be seen as a darkly comic figure and/or the film’s greatest source of malevolence, however restrained.

After watching Alice in Wonderland more than most Disney animated films over the course of my lifetime, I still struggle over how to categorize Kimball’s magical cat. Certainly, Cheshire Cat is an antagonist, but do his actions place him in the pantheon of Disney villains? Reading Carroll’s books and noting – however circuitously – Cheshire Cat helps Alice become “unlost”, perhaps being considered a trickster will suffice.

The soundtrack to Alice in Wonderland contains the greatest number of songs (sixteen from a potential thirty) in the entire Disney animated feature canon. That is partly due to the length of these compositions – clocking in, in several instances, at just under or over one minute – and that more than a handful of these songs are adaptations (partial or complete) of a Lewis Carroll poem. Disney hired a battalion of Tin Pan Alley composers and lyricists to pen/adapt songs around Carroll’s poems, but just over half of the songs were composed by Sammy Fain (“Secret Love” in 1953’s Calamity Jane, “Love is a Many-Splendored Thing” from the 1955 film of the same name) set to Bob Hilliard’s (“Civilization”, also known as “Bongo, Bongo, Bongo (I Don’t Want to Leave the Congo)”) lyrics. Among their mostly original compositions, Fain and Hilliard are responsible for the title song, “In a World of My Own”, and “Painting the Roses Red”, among several other earworms utilizing Carroll’s poetry.

Debatably Alice in Wonderland’s ultimate earworm is the original song “A Very Merry Un-birthday” by Mack David, Al Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston (the trio also composed “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo in 1950’s Cinderella). Because of this song’s affiliation with a certain ride at the Disney theme parks, you, the reader, might already be very familiar with the song’s melody without ever watching Alice in Wonderland. Sung raucously by the Mad Hatter and March Hare (incredible voice acting by Ed Wynn and Jerry Colonna, respectively) alongside Alice, the “unbirthday song” is even more jaunty, celebratory, and devilishly catchy than “Happy Birthday” itself. With this lengthy soundtrack, Alice in Wonderland’s songs completely overshadow and are referenced across Oliver Wallace’s (the notorious title song and score to 1942’s Der Fuehrer’s Face, 1963’s The Incredible Journey) score. For such a riotous and absurd movie, the film contains an equally riotous and absurd soundtrack to empower all of its nonsense.

The qualities that have made Alice in Wonderland treasured by many (including yours truly) today are the exact same ones that British literary and film critics took issue with in 1951. This Alice eviscerates Lewis Carroll’s literary vision and it is too “American”, these critics wrote. Walt Disney, years removed from his namesake studio’s Golden Age animated features (an era where he might have considered the words of academic and critics), now could not care less.

Walt’s distaste for academic and critics in the second half of his career began after musical and film critics pilloried Fantasia (1940). But his disdain for such individuals was fully realized after their response to the innovative and controversial Song of the South (1946) – which Walt intended as a hurrah for the American folklore that colored his childhood. Even upon Song of the South’s release, protesters and picketers decried the film for sentimentalizing the lives of black people in the immediate postbellum American South. “The master-and-slave relation is so lovingly regarded in your yarn,” New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther wrote, “… that one might almost imagine that you figure Abe Lincoln made a mistake. Put down that mint julep, Mr. Disney.” Disney took this wave of criticism over Song of the South personally, and convinced himself that supposedly communist enemies from rival studios and hostile sociopolitical circles were inflaming these attacks against his films and his studio. How dare these people, Walt must have thought, tell the inventor of Mickey Mouse and the man who gave Hugh Harman, Rudolf Ising, and Friz Freleng their first jobs in animated cinema what he could or could not do artistically. Walt Disney could justly say he laid the foundation for American animated cinema in Kansas City – before Burbank, before the overcrowded studio in Hyperion – all those years ago, which must have fueled his pride and dismissal of his naysayers.

In an earlier decade, Walt – especially when noting that Carroll’s work was integral to his start in animated film in the 1920s – might have publicly lashed out to the polarized response that met Alice in Wonderland. Now, Walt had compartmentalized his feelings. And as Alice in Wonderland made its way through theaters, a long-gestating animated feature featuring a canine romance was finally moving forward. Another film, made possible due to the windfalls from Cinderella, had just been greenlit, and would not see completion until decade’s end.

Although not successful in its theatrical run, Alice in Wonderland became the first Disney film to rejuvenate its reputation in the popular mindset through television. TV became widespread in the United States and Britain after the Second World War and, with it, Walt Disney would use the medium to broadcast his older films, to alter popular perceptions of his own persona and personal history, and to employ idealized images and storytelling in telling the story of his namesake studio. Removed from the cultural discourse dominating airwaves and headlines in the early 1950s, viewers in the decades following Alice in Wonderland’s release can now appreciate the film’s role in the Disney animated canon. Alice in Wonderland is a demented classic that, because of its narrative-unfriendly content, has influenced few films following it. The film adjusts Lewis Carroll’s books in ways that pay homage to his writing, but also to chart a colorful course for viewers and Disney fans as cinematically as possible.

My rating: 9/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

This is the twenty-first Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include The Kid (1921), Cinderella (1950), and The Sound of Music (1965).