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thedreadvampy · 4 months

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btw on the tangent of end of history ass bullshit I put my finger recently on why adapting Good Omens as a modern-day story bugs me

bc I Have Known. bc I was a comedy-fantasy afficianado in the 90s/early 2000s. that GO is one of many examples of a very specific genre of British comedy-scifi-fantasy popular in the 90s I would term "millennial apocalypse farce".

you know, they're a mix of biblical eschatology, Fortean Times conspiracy theory, cult tropes, and Y2K Rise of the Machines stuff, smashed together into an Adamsian comedy where a group of hapless protagonists bumble around while the world falls apart in comically overblown ways. imo, though a lot of authors bring their own spin to it, they're all heavily stylistically influenced specifically by Dirk Gently, which isn't Millennial Apocalypse Farce but I think did inspire a lot of it. Robert Rankin is on the edge of it, Good Omens is the most lasting example, but I read like 20 of these and most authors only wrote one afaict.

but the thing I was saying the other day is I honestly cannot think of a genre of popular English-language fiction that's more rooted in a specific time and culture. I tried for a while and really couldn't.

It just doesn't translate well away from the turn of the millennium, purely because the millennium was such a fevered touchpoint for Apocalypse Stuff. two things there I think.

Obviously, Y2K looming. Millennium Approaches. The turn of every century has often been accompanied by an uptick in interest in apocalypses and end times, but this was the BIGGIE. It's only happened on this calendar once before. People in the 1900s were talking about how close they were to a new millennium. The approaching millennium dominated the whole 20th century, and especially with how apocalyptic a lot of the 20th century felt in terms of war and technology, apocalyptic fervour really kicked up in the 90s. And there was a smorgasbord of apocalypses to choose from; divine, nuclear, digital, cosmic, alien, all stuff which on the millennial scale had really only just shown up in the last century or so. I was 7 in 2000 so pinch of salt but I remember all of us sort of holding our breath leading up to Jan 1 2000, not just bc of Y2K but bc it felt like something momentous HAD to happen.

The end of history. The cold war had subsided, and so had the economic depression of the 70s and 80s UK. There just was not a Singular Apocalypse hanging over a group of people who'd spent their whole lives in the shadow of a Singular Nuclear Apocalypse. I think stuff really rushed in to fill that gap, and Millennial Apocalypse Farce is a response to that sudden glut of possible apocalypses all clamouring for attention.

I think as well American end-of-days right-wing evangelism was really loud in the 80s-90s and that plays a part, cause the generally lefty and consciously self-effacing British comedy author milieu found that off-putting in a very mockable way

but the point is that glut of apocalypses was a real flash in the pan, the same way the End of History was. it was a like 10-15 year timespan where the world was definitely ending but nobody could say why or how, and it began around the fall of the Berlin Wall and ended on September 11, 2001.

Millennial Apocalypse Farce novels did keep coming out after 2001 but like everything else, the culture has changed really radically, and also, like, we were past the millennium. Those infinite possibilities of apocalypses hadn't paid off. Not saying that the public interest in apocalypse went away - 2012, obviously. The LHC. But the full on fervour for any and all crank apocalypses kind of petered off a bit bc the turn of the millennium was so much a flashpoint for it. and anyway we had really concrete apocalypses again - terrorism, totalitarian governments, plague, and of course the main 21st century apocalypse, Oh Shit We Really Fucked This Climate Change Thing Up.

and I really love the Millennial Apocalypse Farce genre. I really love stumbling on books in that genre. because it's such a time capsule for an incredibly specific period in recent cultural history.

but it does not translate into a 2020s setting. It's so 90s. it's so rooted in a really specific landscape of cultural anxieties and abstractions. it just doesn't make sense to me to translate it to the modern day, it's like setting Angels in America in 2023. it's just the wrong type of apocalypse. apocalypses are culturally generated and they change fast based on how a culture sees itself and the world. you can't pick up a 1990 apocalypse and put it unchanged in 2023, it's Wrong. if you're going to do that you have to be in conversation with it, you can't just update it.

like ok example of thoughtfully recontextualising an anachronistic apocalypse for a modern setting. War of the Worlds 2005. Why is it War of the Worlds? Because it wants to say some things about the relationship between post 9/11 America and colonial England, and how the specific common anxiety of invasion affects them as people in a nation of invaders. Idk if it's a good film cause I didn't like it when I watched it but that was a long time ago. But the intent makes sense.

what does putting a Millennial Apocalypse Farce in the 2020s actually. say? about the commonalities between now and then? I mean. Based on the TV show of Good Omens, to me, not a lot. It's pretty beat for beat in that sense, and we're not really far enough away from 1990 for it to have the obvious impacts that saying "now is very like then" does with, say, War of the Worlds, because the world of HG Wells was distant enough for a 2005 audience to go 'oh, Victorian colonialism, that's Not Like Us.' whereas like. I remember the 90s. It's not recent but it's in continuity with now. saying "then it's like now" is a) kind of Incorrect imo, the cultural anxieties are Very Different, and b) not...striking?

idk like. The genre is dated. The nature of that specific apocalypse idea is incredibly dated. And that's good actually. It's fine for art to be a time capsule of a specific cultural moment and to not make sense divorced from that moment. That's good! That's a good use of art!

#red said

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h3rmitsunited · 2 years

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Okay, because I couldn't help myself, I had to go for the Season Two outfits also.

Starting, of course, with the Blackwing Jumpsuit. The angst-filled gray blob of imprisonment, dehumanization, and, say it with me folks, **Trauma**! Yay! There's no trace of Dirk Gently in this outfit. He's stuck in the white walls in clothes he wouldn't willingly wear, and not only that, but the last time that we saw our detective, he was wearing his signature yellow jacket and Mexican Funeral t-shirt from his friends. We don't see Blackwing take these away, but obviously they did, and the implication of them stripping Dirk of this identity that he's created for himself as Dirk Gently, holistic detective (which he was so proud to tell Riggins in episode 3 that he was solving real cases, finding clues, that he had friends), and stripped him of his friends, of the real connections that he had made out of no small effort, I mean the implication is just something that makes me really want to give Friedkin a nice punch in the face.

Dirk has this stripped away, is stuffed into this jumpsuit that says you aren't deserving of a real name, you're not a person, you're an experiment, you're a mistake, you never get anything right, so just do what you're supposed to do. He spends two months there with nobody, silent guards walking him from room to room, hearing the recorded voice tell him he's doing a bad job, and changing from one jumpsuit to another day after day.

I feel burnt out just watching it.

And so he escapes. First outfit change we see is the jumpsuit top unzipped and tied at the waist, a simple gray t-shirt underneath. He's hesitant to feel like he's out, so he's still wearing the jumpsuit (and practically, yes, he hasn't had the opportunity to change his clothes), but he's letting himself enjoy his friends, feeling a bit vulnerable, worried about them being wanted by the FBI, opening up to Hobbs about what he's been through. He's not back into Dirk Gently mode, yet though.

Not until Hobbs and Tina come back and say hey, we're gonna do a holistic, and present him with this bright reflective jacket to put over his white t-shirt and jumpsuit pants. We see Dirk eager to jump into the holistic detective persona, investigating, finding the air gun, doing his holistic... stuff. But you can tell that he's still not quite... there yet. He's still in that jumpsuit, he's finding out Todd got pararibulitis, there's a body in a tree, and things aren't quite right, but it's... fine.

We see that he's taken the jacket off to sleep, resting it under his head. Like... like it's a dream??? Out of reach because he knows it's not as easy to just throw that persona back on, to jump right back into that same person that he was before, the bright jackets and wild theories. In the day time, it was easier, but at night, struggling to sleep while Todd and Farah rest in their beds, he can't escape his own thoughts, and there's no one to put the performance on for. He's still in that jumpsuit, wrapped in the traumatic experience of Blackwing, unable to keep that bright jacket on, just letting it sit under his head.

And it feels poingnant that the first thing that Dirk asks when Tina arrives that morning, is for new clothes. He needs to get out of what he's wearing. The reflective jacket didn't work, he's done wallowing the angsty memories, so he's just going to throw that away, try something completely different and just ignore all those scary thoughts that happened because of Blackwing and just go and go and go. Detective Time!

One new spiffy outfit later, he looks himself in the mirror saying "best case ever", and if that doesn't tell you that the look is an important part of the way that Dirk works, I don't know what will. He's like okay... I can do this. I look the part, I just need to walk it again. Easy. Yes. Easy peasy.

Except... oh shit it's not. He stumbles upon Bob Boreton who proceeds to attack him, Hobbs brushes off his warnings, and they go back to the station. And good god, the scene that Todd checks on him... he has taken off the jacket!

Again, I repeat, the jacket is off! Except instead of this vulnerable state making Dirk open up, he bristles, dodging Todd's questions and wandering off. He's not in the same place that he was before, he willinging took off that layer of armor of his jacket, and he's scared and hurting, but like a cornered and scared dog, it just makes him feel trapped.

That is until later, after Panto gets brought to the station, the man with pink hair, convoluted bullshit just dropping like big crazy raindrops from the sky around Dirk. He's still jacketless, but he's got himself shielded by the file cabinet when Todd comes to talk to him. There's still that defensiveness, but Dirk finds himself able to open up a bit, and slowly during the conversation, he comes out a little from behind the file cabinet.

He's got the jacket back on during the house within a house sequence and for the subsequent scenes in the police station and Francis' room. This is a very chaotic series of events, and Dirk has a lot of Feelings throughout everything that happens. The initial, yes, I'm a detective I can't do this, to oh shit, I fucked up and I'm going to die, to panic that Todd is going to try to come in for him, then continued investigating and panic and escape and relief and then more panic when Todd has an attack and things happen so quickly and they go back to the station and (I analyzed this whole scene at the station in another meta post and gosh I love this scene) but this whole time but Dirk's clothes are the same. I'd say this scene is him wanting to cling to that holistic detective persona.

And agh, once again, this works so well, because he goes from that outfit to running into some rando guy in the bathroom of the diner and trading for his clothes, that red jacket outfit. Because, well that last outfit obviously didn't work... it got him trapped in a hell dimension and Todd had an attack and murder weapons and just... it was a bad outfit, so he changes and he's like, yes okay, I'm going to be doing normal detective stuff, not stupid, flighty bullshit, this is going to work this time.

Spoiler, it doesn't.

Arnold Cardenas finds him and then proceeds to have a whole ass heart attack and Dirk is like... I'm starting to think I'm bad at this. I hate everything.

So why not go party, yeah whatever. Some big music festival? Tons of people? Lots of opportunities for stuff to go wrong? Well I'm a big disaster anyways, might as well embrace it.

So he keeps his little outfit on to head to the festival, a pair of glowsticks (oh my god the glowsticks), and at one point a big balloon hat, and is just like being a holistic detective is already so goddamn weird this might as well happen.

And we see him in this outfit... until... yeah, that's right, the infamous drug night, unseen except for our fanfics.

And he ends up in this big fluffy pink coat, a cowboy hat, a black tank top and his little shorts, and oh boy, what a look that is. And it's like five different looks in one. Because Dirk doesn't know who he is. The spell loosened them up, as Todd called it a truth spell, and the truth that Dirk reveals is that he is wearing so many different clothes that he doesn't know what fits. It's pink. It's fur. It's a hat, or showing skin, or not showing skin, glitter or black or white or jacket or not. He's so turned around and shaken up and it's all just happening and happening and happening and it's so much.

He goes out to the main room and catches up with the others, hearing that super fun call from Suzie about how she's going to like drink their blood and murderize them, and he's like immediate spiral. But there isn't time to wait. They're like we have to get back to work and Dirk is freaking out and there's no time to deal with that. Time to go, go, go.

And I think it's also relevant that his next freakout happens when they're getting ready to go, he's in just his white button down and tie and staring down needing to put the jacket back on and get going when he's like...

...pause... I solved the case...

He doesn't want to put that jacket back on. If he can just finish it right now, before anything else happens, then that can be it. Nobody else has to get hurt, they can just walk away. But he knows it isn't that simple, so the attempt to talk himself into this being the end turns into panic insane rambling, and the others are just like... yeah no, we need to go.

So Dirk gets his jacket back on, but he's not in it. It's like the jacket is wearing a ghost of Dirk, going through the motions, but it's too heavy, he can't bear the responsibilities, he doesn't want to carry this anymore. He can't do it.

And it all falls apart. Suzie, the hospital, Arnold.

Priest.

They make it to Wendimoor and the first thing Dirk does is throw his jacket off and pull off his tie. Nope. I'm done. I quit. I'm not that guy. I'm nobody and don't try to tell me I'm something. This is it.

He lets Beast do his hair and wrap him in vines because this is who he is when he doesn't have something. Sure, you can turn me into your uniquely elegant lumberjack husband. Better than being a fuck-up and getting everyone killed.

But then... pulling off the vines, and looking at the murals, he figures it out and runs.

Still in his clothes, he's not quite back yet, he's still scared and unsure, but he's got something he's running for, and once he gets into that town, he pulls on a jacket and jumps back into his role. I'm getting my friends back, I'm in this. I'm here for them and I'm going to figure this out.

He keeps that Wendimoor jacket on until he's back in Blackwing and Mona blows up the room they run into and he gets a cut on his arm. And he's back with a friend, not safe, and very vulnerable, but he's still himself, he's not in that jumpsuit, he's got a friend, and she protects him as best as she can while they try to get Francis out, jumping in front of him when Ken is threatening him.

But he ultimately makes it back to Wendimoor, saves the day, wearing that yellow jacket. That yellow jacket that feels so much like himself and Mona giving him that, knowing that is what he needs to wear at that moment, I'm here, Dirk, I've got you covered, you are who you are and you don't have to keep trying to be someone you're not. We love you so much. And we see after this scene that Dirk does look more settled, despite the breakdowns he had before, he seems okay, satified with what Francis had told him about what he is and his purpose. He stands by Todd's side wearing his yellow jacket with pride, with a smile, like this is who he is and he can be okay with that.

And then the final scene, that black jacket. The stripes of color on the sleeve the same as all his other jackets he had worn before. His suit of armor. And he looks happy.

And it's so good.

This was very long, so I didn't go deeply into every single things as much as I could have, but season two is long and so much stuff happens! And Dirk is really going through it so... makes sense that his outfits go through it too.

Anyways, yay meta posts.

lol bye

#dghda #dghda meta #dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #dirk gently #dghda outfits

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dragonborndigitalart · 6 months

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Some old doodles of Priest from Dirk Gently. I like the theory among fans that he’s a Blackwing project turned employee. I’ve seen some great theories but my personal favorite is that he can’t be killed. He’s like Frankenstein’s monster and can be put back together no matter the damage to him. There’s supposedly a file at Blackwing that’s redacted except for the words “child” and “beheading”. My personal theory is that the child was Bart and she beheaded him then he was just put right back together. This would explain why she doesn’t even bother trying to kill Priest anymore despite him definitely being evil (and also likely holistic). I don’t believe project Prometheus was ever revealed in the show either so I just think it’s all fitting.

#dirk gently’s holistic detective agency #dghda #osmund priest #alan tudyk #Blackwing

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bripops · 5 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @redtoblack and this seems fun! I'm including WIPs though because I think that'd be interesting and might spark some motivation to write lol

tbh looking at these I'm seeing a pattern that I start with the setting before anything else, like even if it's not the physical location, it's establishing where the narrator is at mentally. this is neat! tagging @jtownnn because she's so good at tagging me!

Feel the Earth Move (WIP, Dirk Gently/Forces Unseen Sequel)

It wasn’t that Dirk knew Todd was going to propose, not for certain. There were actually frighteningly few things in life that Dirk knew with total certainty. Gravity was just a theory after all. Time wasn’t linear. Even the universal constant of taxes could be disregarded far more easily than was widely believed; he’d seen as much for himself, and Farah had nearly had a coronary when she’d tried to issue him a W2 and discovered that he didn’t know what his social security number was, if he had one at all. Just about everything was a matter of guesses, some more educated than others. Sometimes though, when the stream of creation saw fit, Dirk didn’t need to guess, his hunches filling in the blanks for him. He learned to trust them, even when he didn’t quite understand how it all worked. So when he developed a lingering hunch that Todd was going to propose, Dirk took it at face value and panicked.

we could call it even (WIP, 'tis the damn season seblaine AU)

It was cold when Sebastian stepped off his plane in Columbus, but he hadn’t lived in California long enough yet to forget what winter felt like. He hadn’t been home since August, had purposely stayed in LA for Thanksgiving weekend, but this wasn’t exactly his first white Christmas. He had a hoodie in his backpack for now, and when he got up to the gate he pulled it on. The one from Dalton Academy lacrosse was one of the few he’d brought to school with him and he was comfortable in it; a Dalton boy even now.

hopeless, breathless, burning slow (Dirk Gently)

Dirk is so rarely still that he often forgets what it feels like. Really, he’s always in motion. He runs so much, too much for someone who doesn’t actually like running and whose footwear is almost never appropriate. Too often he finds himself running away from danger, sometimes for his life. The night he’d run away from Blackwing for good, he hadn’t stopped for miles. But it’s not just that.

don't really wanna cool it down (Dirk Gently)

When Tina had asked him and Todd to check out some “weird shit” that had been happening around her friend Jenny’s cabin near the Kaniksu National Forest, Dirk hadn’t necessarily expected to find anything. He’d met some of Tina’s friends, and they all seemed to be on quite a lot of drugs most of the time, so he and Todd agreed that it was more likely than not some kind of hallucinogen making Jenny hear things. Still, they owed Tina after she’d gotten shot on their behalf, and Idaho was halfway to Montana anyway, so they could work in a visit to Bergsberg afterwards.

only one thing left for us to do (Dirk Gently)

The first thing Adrienne said to Dirk the morning after the fight with Rowen was that he looked like a “well-fucked idiot,” which was so far from what Dirk had ever expected to be called that for a split second he forgot he was fluent in French and wondered if he’d mistranslated.

merrier the more (The Magicians, Eliot/Quentin/Fen)

Quentin isn’t sure if he’d forgotten about the masquerade of if no one had told him in the first place. Either is equally possible, but he strongly suspects the latter. Margo and Eliot and even Fen are in their element, fussing over every small detail before they leave for the party. Quentin’s watching Margo adjust the the cascade of curls that’s tumbling down Fen’s back when Eliot’s voice behind him makes him jump. “Aww,” Eliot says, bending so that he can hook his chin over Quentin’s shoulder. “You like her.”

that deviant ingredient (The Magicians, accidental aphrodisiac)

“Hey Q,” Eliot says lightly, leaning against the kitchen counter and enjoying the way Quentin jumps in surprise. “Whatcha eatin’?” He’s not surprised that Quentin is stealing someone else’s food, not really; they all do it and it’s generally accepted that if you don’t ward it against thieves it’s your own fault if it goes missing. What’s surprising is that Quentin is eating Josh’s food. He must be feeling either particularly brave or particularly hungry because even on a good day eating whatever Josh leaves lying around is a risk. “Nothing,” Quentin says, as if he hadn’t just gotten busted with half a cookie still in his mouth. He moves to try to hide the box, but knows he’s been caught and gives up quickly. “Cookies.”

Feels Like Heaven To Me (Dirk Gently, wing!fic)

“You hate them.” “What?” Todd asked, eyes back to Dirk’s face from where they’d been staring at the literal wings that had manifested between his shoulders. “No, I don’t hate them, I’m just… wow.” He and Dirk had been together for about three months when Dirk had said very seriously, “I need to show you something.” When he’d taken off his shirt Todd hadn’t known what to expect; they’d seen each other naked countless times, but he’d never seen Dirk like this. He’d never seen anyone with wings at all, and quite frankly he wasn’t surprised as he probably should have been. It wasn’t even in the top five of weird things he’d seen that month. His life was kind of insane.

cross my heart (and hope to die) (Dirk Gently)

It started as most things in Dirk’s life did: with a crisis. Dirk hadn’t previously been aware that there was such a thing as an orchid crisis, but as he hid on a boat somewhere between Vancouver and Seattle, he knew it was very real. Over $100,000 in rare orchids had gone missing, and for whatever reason, their client was extremely eager to get them back. While following a lead, he and Todd had uncovered a massive botanical smuggling ring, a fact that Todd was not happy about. “I hate boats,” Todd said, looking a little green. “I haven’t stepped on one since the whale watching incident of 1999.” Dirk didn’t ask what the whale watching incident of 1999 was; judging by the look on Todd’s face it likely involved some sort of sea sickness and quite possibly an actual whale. “We’ll be back in Seattle soon,” Dirk said, ignoring the fact that they’d technically crossed the Canadian border illegally twice. “Farah and the police will meet us there, and we’ll be back on land before you know it. All we have to do is stay hidden for the next half hour, and then we’ll be fine.”

Forces Unseen (Dirk Gently)

It was October in Seattle; mild but gray, clouds covering the view of Mt. Rainier, with just enough rain to remind everyone that in a few weeks they’d be getting ready for winter. Todd was bored and Dirk was antsy and Farah was ready to kill them both. Boredom made Todd grumpy, which was made worse by Dirk’s inability to keep still or stay quiet for more than twenty minutes at a time. Farah just wanted them to submit their damn expense reports, but no one seemed willing to do that for a month that hadn’t had any real case-related expenses. Todd was fully prepared to eat the $15 he’d spent on snacks for a stakeout if it meant he wouldn’t have to do any paperwork, but Farah was insistent. Needless to say, things around the office were a bit tense. Todd hit his limit after five minutes of listening to Dirk slowly peel the foil off a chocolate coin. “Unwrap it or don’t,” he snapped, only partially because he was mad that Dirk had chocolate he hadn’t offered to share. “The chocolate will still be there if you rip the foil.” Dirk had the nerve to look offended. “And risk destroying potential clues?” he asked. “I think not.” “It’s a chocolate coin you got at the dollar store,” Todd intoned. “It’s probably not even real chocolate.” “You’re probably not even real chocolate,” Dirk responded, not looking up from his work. It didn’t make any sense as a retort, but Todd threw a pencil at his head anyway.

#writing meme

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arc-angel-o · 1 year

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"He didn't freeze. It's LA, man."

This line implies the homeless man exists, even if him freezing was a lie, right? So what did happen with him then?

Disclaimer: I'm not saying this theory is absolutely true, it's just one possibility of many

I like the idea that the implication is Toad murdered him, maybe picturing something like Bart in Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency when she got someone to cross the street at a bad time. Answering the question of "what's the worst thing you've done?" with a lie that starts with the truth.

I also really like what @atlasisntdead said about Toad's whole thing being knowing he's a bad person, so the idea that he would worry about being caught foreshadows the fact that he's lying to Rabbit. Does that suggest the homeless man is alive, if Toad's motive seems out of character? Hopefully, but -

Let's pull from the earlier line, "I wouldn't have left any witnesses" in response to Rabbit helping Boris. That line would normally indicate a character's motivations being avoiding getting caught. Since that's not the case, is he lying here too? I don't think the line itself is a lie, but it hides his true motivations. He's sort of misleading Rabbit/the audience. Perhaps he wouldn't have left any witnesses, not to cover his tracks, but for plain cruelty's sake. Perhaps that was why Toad looked for the homeless man again, with the danger of him exposing Toad thinly veiled reasoning.

Or maybe the guy's fine and we have no idea what the worst thing Toad's ever done is 🤷 I know I just accused Toad of murder, but it's more of a theory than an analysis*, and I think Rabbit's assessment "I think you're a better person that you think you are" is going to be proven accurate eventually, I also wanna write a meta about how Toad accepting being an antagonist is totally because he has zero self esteem and wants to self sabotage lol

(*not that analysis is better than theorizing, i like writing theories much more than writing analysis. They're just different.)

#god toad is such an intriguing and mysterious character i wanna learn more about him so badly pls kyle #toad rabbit #rabbit meta #rabbit theory #rabbit webseries #rabbit kyle prue #rabbit #meta #fan theory #seconds before i post any meta/analysis/theory i wonder if it's really obvious to everyone else #please tell me that's not the case #writing this gave me more ideas for meta and fics alike so stay tuned #i might even turn this meta into a fic #rabbit analysis #character analysis #is this even articulated #well

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sharlinefreire · 1 year

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hello there! ♡

my name is sharline freire, my pronouns are she/her, i am brazilian, writer, journalist student, vegetarian and i love films, tv shows, fanfictions, books, comics and music.

my fav artists:

fav actors: jack quaid, diego luna, michael fassbender, matthew macfadyen, bill hader, colin farrell, adam scott;

fav directors: greta gerwig, céline sciamma, guillermo del toro, m. night shyamalan, paul thomas anderson, darren aronofsky, steven spielberg, jonas mekas;

fav writers: pedro bandeira, neil gaiman, elena ferrante, clarice lispector, taylor jenkins reid;

fav singers/bands: taylor swift, sufjan stevens, hozier, florence and the machine, lorde, mitski, the lumineers, the national, kodaline, glee cast, elton john, the beatles, imagine dragons, coldplay, bts;

my fav shows, films and characters:

my fav shows: good omens, doctor who, hannibal, sherlock bbc, house m.d, star trek tos, cobra kai, what we do in the shadows, dirk gently's holistic detective agency, glee, dexter, twin peaks, better call saul, succession, my brilliant friend, ozark, the office, the big bang theory, anne with an e, this is us, over the garden wall, queer eye, mr. bean;

my fav characters: sherlock holmes, john watson, the doctor, donna noble, aziraphale, crowley, tom wambsgans, magneto, johnny lawrence, daniel larusso, gregory house, james wilson, hannibal lecter, mr. spock, loki laufeyson, dexter morgan, dale cooper, benji dunn, obi-wan kenobi, cassian andor, mike wazowski, mr. bean;

my ships/couples:

aziraphale/crowley (good omens); canon!

clara/12th doctor (doctor who);

donna/10th+14th doctor (doctor who);

obs: aziraphale and crowley are non-binary and the doctor is agender/gender fluid so i don't put them in m/m or f/m.

my m/m ships:

sherlock/john (sherlock holmes);

house/wilson (house m.d);

charles/erik (x-men, marvel);

jim/dwight (the office);

daniel/johnny (karate kid, cobra kai);

jack/ennis (brokeback mountain); canon!

butcher/hughie (the boys);

tom/greg (succession, hbo);

spock/kirk (star trek);

finn/poe (star wars);

hannibal/will (hannibal, nbc); canon!

merlin/arthur (merlin, bbc);

dean/castiel (supernatural);

benji/ethan (mission impossible);

stede/edward (our flag means death); canon!

dirk/todd (dirk gently's holistic detective agency);

rajesh/howard (the big bang theory);

félix/nico (amor à vida); canon!

steve/tony (avengers, marvel);

abed/troy (community);

nick/gatsby (the great gatsby);

nandor/guillermo (what we do in the shadows);

connor/oliver (how to get away with murder); canon!

my f/f ships:

emma/regina (once upon a time);

eve/villanelle (killing eve); canon!

rory/paris (gilmore girls);

my f/m ships:

amy/sheldon (the big bang theory); canon!

sydney/carmy (the bear, fx);

kim/jimmy (better call saul); canon!

scully/mulder (x-files) canon!

lorelai/luke (gilmore girls); canon!

eleanor/chidi (the good place); canon!

gerri/roman (succession); ???

willa/connor (succession); canon!

leia/han (star wars); canon!

anyway, my ao3 account is sharlinefreire and my user on twitter is also sharlinefreire.

check my carrd of more informations: sharlinefreire.carrd.co

welcome to my tumblr! ♡

#about me #hi i am sharline #welcome to my tumblr #fixed post #pinned post #this is my life i guess #unfortunately i love queerbaiting im sorry

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urlocallesbiab · 1 year

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webb built his machine in 1886; pararibulitis has run in the brotzman family for 5 generations, and a generation is anywhere between 20 and 30 years, and 5 generations is between 100 and 150 years, which means 1886 fits into the time period of "5 generations ago from 2016". and i'm not saying i'm certain that webb fucking around with the time-space continuum somehow caused pararibulitis, but — who knows?

#dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency (tv 2016)#dghda theory #dghda headcanon #patrick spring #pararibulitis #vikarambles #vika's personal dghda tag #dghda meta

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lisbetadair · 1 year

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OK ALRIGHT ITS TIME FOR THE BIG QUESTION

What Ghost (face claim) do you prefer to imagine when reading any fanfic or content about him?

Would you say he's an attractive, strapping man with a clean shave and runs a goth coffee gig in Hereford or some guy with shaggy ginger hair who is also the love interest of Johnny Whipped MacTavish? Or the guy who's a little shit, has cheap tastes, tried to mess with a woman and got his ass kicked in return who I can only imagine speaking to his family in mancunian because it Somehow Fits him? Ily Samuel roukin but like. Ginger ghost. I need some ideas for ginger Riley

It varies from:

Alan Tudyk, here as Mr Priest from Netflix's Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency. Admittedly, not particularly ginger in this one, but I feel this is very close to MW2 2022 Ghost's colouring.

The classic Ken Bek, for when I think you want a more hipster Ghost.

Cricketer Ben Compton, just as a spare one for when I want weirdo loner Lieutenant who reads romance novels instead of doing important regimental management stuff and is in love with his sergeant.

Prince Harry, for when I entertain the low-stakes conspiracy theory that Ghost always wears a mask because he's Prince Harry putting on a fake East London accent and wishes to remain anonymous because of unwanted press attention but still wishes to serve in the army.

Mark Donaldson (who gets bonus points for being in the Australian SAS). A reserve Ghost for whenever I read anything in which he's now a middle aged Dad whose daughter, Sgt Mary Sue Riley, is in the 141.

Jensen Button. Another option for the experienced Lieutenant in any stories that require military competency.

RIP to Sam Roukin, but no. That is Jonathon Strange and I am having none of it.

#simon ghost riley

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pyrrhesia · 2 years

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FF14Write22 - Confluence

In which Severine stands firm, and alone.

Yangir belongs to @nerdlordholocron

"Of course," said Severine, softly. "It's always you, isn't it. Dzemael bastard." She spat on the ground, something colder and more lifeless than stone. The eyes behind that visor were dull, now, glazed over by anger. He - it - was barely more than a thing, a tool of Thordan's. And to think... "To think I once envied you. Now... now look where it's ended." She raised her flamberge. "Would have been kinder to kill you." Was there recognition, there? Just a flicker? "Bel... grave... ?" She could spare him a terse nod. Pandaemonium raged all around. Him and his eleven kin had come out for their last stand, but for a moment, the two knights stood at the eye of the storm. "No. No!" He chewed at his cheek, before spitting out blood. "Enemy! Enemy!" Severine hissed out a breath, and then there was no time to speak. He was on her...

Severine slammed into the turf. Shoulder-first. Instinct took over, that much, and she rolled into a crouch, barely getting her blunted sword into position in time. In time for what? The following blow sheared straight through her guard. The sword dropped to the floor and her body soon followed. She coughed and sputtered, and tried to heave herself to her feet. A few around the ring laughed. In theory, with disarmament and the simulation of first blood, Severine was out and gone. But who was going to stop her, as she staggered to her feet and held her fists tentatively before her, weaving drunkenly ahead of her opponent-- With a smirk, Grinnaux swept her legs out from under her with a swing of his sword, and followed through, driving his boot down through her sternum. Something crunched, and Severine jolted up against the sole, gasping blood. Only then was she down for good, breathing shallow as the rounded-off tip of his blade pressed against her neck, none-too-gently raised up her chin. Nobody was laughing now. Nor was anyone inclined to step in. Grinnaux was set for the top, and besides, what could a Belgrave ever say to a Dzemael? And what would anyone else ever say on behalf of a Belgrave? They watched. They waited, as Severine's shattered chest rose and fell, broken and shallow. Grinnaux could be capable of anything. The rages he could fly into... ... but today, he just laughed, and walked away.

It was not the Bull. The strength was there, multiplied a dozenfold. She made the mistake of trying to match him once, and would not do so again. But he did not seem to tire, nor want for speed. But the technique was gone. The edges, sanded off. Predictable. But predictably perfect. She caught her blows favourably, deflected them aside, made distance for herself. But there was no time, no space. There was only what was left of the Bull, and he only had eyes for her. She drove forward in what opening she could, opened a gash in his thigh. Its light blinded her, before his backhand caught her temple, sent her staggering back again. Back on the defensive, evading another four, five death-hews before she earned the right to strike another blow at him. This glanced off his shoulder, and before she could recover he drove his head through hers, sending her stumbling back, before kicking her back against the wall. Without rest, he came forward once again, his axe shearing through the wall as if it was nothing. She came to meet it rising, easing out of the way of the blade, a dirk finding its way to her hand before buring in a gap in his armour. His howl was from nowhere on this earth, and he threw her aside like she was a toy...

"I'll stand for the Eorzeans!" The crowd dispersed as the figure stepped forward... and then a few began to smirk. Those few that recognised her at all. After all, she was the second daughter of a nothing client house, and one who had disgraced herself, at that. Sure, she had been a promising swordsman, but to challenge a member of the Heavensward? Was she trying to get the heretics killed? Was this the sign of a kangaroo court? It was madness, she even told herself. A flight of fancy. But she knew that she needed to stand and be counted. Grinnaux just grinned. It was in the name. But he did not know Severine had returned to Ishgard a Godslayer. And she knew him inside out. He wanted to look good, to strike the delicate balance presenting the appearance of fighting a dangerous, legitimate enemy... and destroying them anyway without breaking a sweat. Playing with food and making it look easy. She let him wear himself out on that illusion for a minute or two, wasting energy with vicious death-hews, always keeping her guard up and conserving herself with clever footwork, smarter not harder. She knew he could not resist playing to the crowd. He got as far as picking out someone in the audience before she was on him, throwing her conserved energy into a few vicious swings. He had never kept his eyes off her, but the moment's distraction was more than enough. The first blow smashed through his guard, she followed through, took the space, glanced a backhanded strike off his breastplate, sent him stumbling - the riposte came and sheared through air, she dropped the shoulder under it and carved her blade through him with a sickly crunch, sliced back through his hamstrings and danced back out of the way of the final, vengeful hell's-heart swing, catching his wrist in hand and holding her blade softly against his neck. In a silent hall, she looked up to a silent adjudicator. In some mad way, this may well have proved the innocence of the Eorzeans. But to all concerned, it proved that Severine was back, her tent was pitched, and she was no longer to be dismissed. It felt good to see them look at her with respect. What felt better was the fear.

She regained her poise and, to her amazement, he seemed to give himself a moment's respite, too. Was there mortality to this thing he had become? The thought cut through the adrenaline, somehow. Draw out the Bull. You'll never last forever against... this. But the Bull, you can beat. You have, before. You will err before this abomination; the Bull will err before you. "You have to feel like a fraud," she barked, between rasps of panting. "Eleven of the greatest knights in the realm... and then you, eh? What made you worthy?" Something flickered in those eyes. Severine spat ouf blood. The floor seemed to feed on it. "The drinking? Whoring? Fighting in the streets? Ah, but you had the name to get away with that, Grinnaux. You had the name for everything. And the mistake... your mistake is you thought it was on your merits." He was growling, now. He took his axe in both hands... "Pampered Dzemael brat." She shifted her exhausted bones into a combat posture, one last time. "Come, then. I will show you a true example of knighthood." He lumbered forward...

She watched in horror. They all did, as Grinnaux warped and twisted into a black carapace, a grim parody of armour. So no, then. He had not merely been overconfident in holding the line alone. The first swing sent a man flying, the second took down three others with the sheer force. Severine barked out a challenge as she bore down behind him, honour be damned, but his arm lashed out like a whip and forced her back with vicious, stinging blows. He began to laugh. This time, Severine was not just biding her time. Every precise defensive movement was needed to keep her alive, and failing that, to buy time for the rest. No thought of tiring him out. He could not tire at all. Barely time for her to think at all-- just see behind him that Ysabet was preparing a healing ritual, tracing patterns in the stone with her staff, Cwenthryth snatching up her bow and drawing another arrow, Aeran-- Severine's guard only had to be the slightest fraction out of place. It was enough. The axe crunched through armour, the second hewed through bone. Her legs failed beneath her, and though she tried to keep herself upright, balancing on her sword, the weight was too much. It gave way, skittering on the floor. She swore, between the twisted metal, she saw him smirk, before Cwenthryth sent an arrow between his shell-pauldrons and drew a howl of rage, sent him stalking off towards her. Severine tried to force herself forward. Grinnaux stepped towards Cwenthryth, but Ysabet stepped gamely forward, raking across his flank with a white-hot estoc. Yangir, long on their feet, scurried around his back looking for an opening. Cwenthryth shot through his visor, but before the next arrow could be drawn, threw herself back away from the next blow. The backswing came with unnatural force, shearing through Ysabet's guard and her side, sending her stumbling, falling, and some devilish instinct made the beast turn to slap aside Yangir's spear like it was nothing more than a toy. And again, the axe came down-- -- and somehow, Severine stepped up to take it. Crouching behind her flamberge, knuckles white under their gauntlets, her entire body shaking with the blow. Her armour scraped against the stones as she was shoved forward, but she kept the axe trapped. And Yangir's spear found its mark. The next thing Severine knew, it was over, Ysabet scraping her off the ground. She had been unconscious as they saw him driven off. But at the decisive moment, she had held the line. No time to dwell on it. They took a moment to get their breath back, dusted themselves off, sharpened their steel and moved on. It would be a footnote in a day of horrors, the most pyrrhic of victories. But there was something in that engorged armour that Severine recognised, in some way, in herself.

Steel clashed, and clashed, and clashed again. Hate seeped into his blows, his perfect form grew more sloppy, and he picked up errors, and wounds to go with them. But he did not cease. Severine could not keep up. Every blow she could not deflect jolted her body with the force, sent her stumbling back. And he took satisfaction in this. She could see it. Something less than the perfect knight... "Empty words..." She realised -- again, the axe fell, and again, she escaped death -- he was speaking. "Little Belgrave... insignificant line... you are nothing... to our magnificence... perfect form of knighthood..." Another strike. Severine almost dropped her blade. A chip had worn into the surface. But his blows were growing wilder. More and more openings presented themself. She had the energy to take fewer and fewer. "Then tell me," she forced out the words, "why are you losing?" "... will be cleansed... Ishgard purified... nothing but a cancer..." And he broke through, a human edge tearing through at last, the sheer exasperation as he cried, "Why won't you DIE?!" He threw himself forward. Severine shifted the blade forward, threw all her power into keeping it set as she let his own momentum impale his heart. The blade lodged in, burst through, a brilliant argent light searing through his back like an angel's wings. She heard his keening scream die away, and the clattering of the axe, so clear amidst the tumult, as his corpse slipped from her blade and faded away to dust. She opened her eyes. She was not sure how long they had been fixed shut. But Halone had answered her prayer, and given her a moment of respite in the melee. Dzemael, Belgrave. It meant nothing to almost any of her companions. Grinnaux was just one of twelve, a small part of a greater victory today. But for Severine, at least, it was something settled. Just a moment to dwell, before she picked herself up and threw herself once more into the fight.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2022 #oc: severine belgrave

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xcziel · 3 months

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missing the kp cast discord channel so bad rn because i just wanna read people's theories about the jeff's ghost mv

also does it make anyone else besides me think about the electric monk from dirk gently's holistic detective agency (the novel)

#he's a clone or a shapeshifting alien or an android ...#and that's where my brain stopped and went ... the horse is in the house.#now i'm thinking about the monk programmed to believe and the horse and the not-actually-pink landscape

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nemorialex · 4 months

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The Circle

Full Moon tonight. Well, it was actually a Successor Moon, with the white one being full and the Green Moon being a very full gibbous. Alex has a theory that they intend to prove tonight: They were going to perform Earth Magic, which required one full moon, so hopefully the spell wouldn’t be picky about a whole extra moon being just barely not quite as bright as it could be. And if the spell didn’t work? Then the Double Fulls were just a day or so away, and they could give it a shot then.

Waiting an extra hour sounded dreadful.

Alex had been preparing for this. They found and rewrote the spell in their journal, practicing under their breath for ease of communication when the time came. They dug circles and lines into the snow over and over and over again until they were as close to perfect as the human hand could create. A heavy shopping bag full of sage, herbs, and far too many white candles sat on the counter of the greenhouse, ready to be set to work. And, of course, next to that bag a shoebox was dedicated to holding a few of Dirk’s worldly possessions they planed on using (the sword didn’t fit inside however, so it was gently placed on top.)

A large breakfast of french toast with jams and applesauce, sausages, one of Peckett’s whole eggs (which amounted to half a dozen regular chicken eggs on it’s own) and some shortbread cookies was prepared. Alex had tried to get as much rest as they could last night, which was much less successful but that was almost par for the course at this point. On the bright side, they were cleaned, almost rested, full of food, so very well prepared, and they had done this spell before and survived! With worse conditions! This would be fine. They would be fine.

(Jay was briefed on what the spell contained, when and where Alex would be preforming it, and some contingency plans on if things turned sour. Just in case. Alex was not being reckless or stupid with this, not at all. They were prepared. They were over prepared.)

It was pretty late into the evening when both moons breached the horizon. Alex had spent the last bits of daylight trekking out to the clearing they found and setting the stage. Circles dug into the hard ground swept free of snow, with lines crossing, connecting, and dividing the various rings. An herby mixture prepared earlier was sprinkled into the tiny trenches. Fat white candles were erected at cardinal points and lit quickly. Thank goodness it wasn’t breezy today, but the light powdering of snow in the clearing was a visual reminder of how freaking cold the winter twilight hours could be. They couldn’t even set a proper campfire for warmth! The candles did well enough at illuminating the small scene, but not providing the much-needed comfort, so they’d better hurry it up if they wanted to keep those gloved fingers.

Right… Dirk’s belongings. That messed up shirt they had cut through on their second fight, in the temple. They had picked it up on their way out because leaving old torn clothes soaked in blood in a public space was just impolite, if not kind of disturbing. They hadn’t gone back and taken it out of their sylladex until now, and they blamed the fact that they seldom used the device. That was folded as neatly as possible and placed in the middle of the circle. There was a plush, a magazine, a silly santa figurine for some reason, and the dumb mono-colored pencle box set carefully between lit candles. The sword was laid with respect just inside the circle, between themself and that stupid shirt.

Taking a step back to double check (and perhaps admire) their handiwork, Alex was hit with a wave of… Not exactly deja vu, and maybe not all the way into nostalgia, but they could not help but make comparisons to last time. It wasn’t snowy, then. It was still just as dark, with crisp pale light filtering through the trees and the warm candles. The design was a little different, they could see that in their mind’s eye now that they had an active comparison. The candles they had last time were the tall skinny kind they’d found in the mansion for fancy tablesettings, not fat sturdy ones meant to last a while. The last circle was so barren by comparison, while this one- full of trinkets- felt more like a funeral shrine.

That’s not what this was. He wasn’t dead (he wasn’t exactly alive, either) and it wasn’t wrong that they wanted him back. That others wanted him back. He was just so “Strider” stubborn that he wasn’t going to ask for help on this, especially not from Alex. He didn’t like Alex, and the nature of that dislike was still in a questionable haze, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t out of romantic gesture, this wasn’t an opportunity to hold it over his head, this was helping someone that they knew, and cared about, and who had friends who cared about him. He wasn’t dead (his Base was) he was just… Lost. Unhoused and wayward. And they could do something to help. And that’s what they were doing.

Alex took a deep breath and let it out in a shivering puff of visible air. They opened their journal to the bookmarked page, beginning the spell…

#WARNING: we are neck deep in a plot rn and I am loving every second of it #supernatural stories #character:#Alex #spoiler alert: it doesn’t work ;)

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nowbotjunction · 2 years

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Harry potter and the half blood prince 4k

Quentin Coldwater has been cast out of Fillory, the secret magical land of his childhood dreams. The Theory of Everything, The Origin and - Hawking, Stephen.Formats: Kindle (.mobi), ePub (.epub), PDF (.pdf)ĭownloads: The Magician's Land.pdf (3.3 MB), The Magician's Land.mobi (9.9 MB), The Magician's Land.epub (4.9 MB) The Physics of Star Trek - Krauss, Lawrence The Minority Report - ~censored~, Phillip The Lord of the Rings 3 - The Return of - Tolkien, J.R.R The Lord of the Rings 2 - The Two Towers - Tolkien, J.R.R The Lord of the Rings 1 - The Fellowship - Tolkien, J.R.R Seven Habits of Highly Effective People - Covey, Stephen R Outliers, The Story of Success - Gladwell, Malcolm Molecular Mechanisms of Learning and Mem - Lee, Frank Lies My Teacher Told Me - Loewen, James W How to Talk to Anyone, 92 Little Tricks - Driver, Janine How to Make People Like You In 90 Second - Boothman, Nicholas HHGTTG 5 - Mostly Harmless - Adams, Douglas HHGTTG 4 - So Long, And Thanks For All t - Adams, Douglas HHGTTG 3 - Life, the Universe, and Every - Adams, Douglas HHGTTG 2 - The Restaurant at the End of - Adams, Douglas HHGTTG 1 - Hitchhiker s Guide to the Gal - Adams, Douglas Harry Potter 7 - Harry Potter and the De - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 6 - Harry Potter and the Ha - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 5 - Harry Potter and the Or - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 4 - Harry Potter and The Go - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 3 - Harry Potter And The Pr - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 2 - Harry Potter and The Ch - Rowling, J.K Harry Potter 1 - Harry Potter and the So - Rowling, J.K , Henryīlink, The Power of Thinking Without Thi - Gladwell, MalcolmĬonfessions of a Wall Street Analyst - Reingold, Danĭarktower 1 - The Gunslinger - King, Stephenĭarktower 2 - The Drawing of the Three - King, Stephenĭarktower 3 - The Waste Lands - King, Stephenĭarktower 4 - Wizard and Glass - King, Stephenĭarktower 5 - The Wolves of the Calla - King, Stephenĭarktower 6 - Song of Susannah - King, StephenĭarkTower 7 - The Dark Tower - King, Stephenĭirk Gently 1 - Dirk Gently s Holistic D - Adams, Douglasĭirk Gently 2 - The Long Dark Tea-Time o - Adams, Douglasĭo Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, - ~censored~, Philip KĮnders Game 1 - Ender s Game - Card, Orson ScottĮnders Game 2 - Speaker for the Dead - Card, Orson ScottĮnders Game 3 - Xenocide - Orson Scott CardĮnders Game 4 - Children of the Mind - Card, Orson ScottĮnders Game 5 - Ender s Shadow - Card, Orson ScottĮnders Game 6 - Shadow of the Hegemon - Card, Orson Scottįear And Loathing In Las Vegas - Thompson, Hunter Sįoundation 1 - Foundation - Asimov, Isaacįoundation 2 - Foundation and Empire - Asimov, Isaacįoundation 3 - Second Foundation - Asimov, Isaacįrankenstein 1 - Prodigal Son - Koontz, Deanįrankenstein 2 - City of Night - Koontz, Deanįrankenstein 3 - Dead and Alive - Koontz, DeanįREAKONOMICS, A Rogue Economist Explores - Levitt, Steven LawrenceĪ People s History of the United States - Zinn, HowardĪ Short History of Nearly Everything - Bryson, BillĪ World Without Ice - Pollack, Ph.D. especially for the ipad/ipod/iphone, these ebooks are just stunning to view (added covers, ISBN, Metadata, restructured HTML before conversion for better page flow)Ī Brief History of Time - Hawking, StephenĪ Briefer History of Time - Hawking, StephenĪ Colossal Failure of Common Sense, The - McDonald, G. Anyway these ebooks are in epub format which is recent quite popular. For some reasons I can't type in vietnamese.

#Harry potter and the half blood prince 4k

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